A Song Of Some Stuff Being Different and Some Stuff Being The Same
by OursIsTheFury94
Summary: In which Robert slips one through the net and conceives a son with Cersei. Robb is the true born son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, and Jon is the true born son of Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully. Joffrey/Sansa, Robb/Sansa. MORE INFO INSIDE.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is my first ASOIAF fic and I'm hoping I'll be able to keep going with this one and complete it. I admit, I'm not the greatest at sticking with fics, but I'm gonna try and get this whole thing/most of it written before posting it, apart from the first chapter which will be uploaded soon!

This first (non) chapter is just to give you guys a little bit of info.

First, Robb is the true born son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister.

Second, Jon is the true born son of Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully. Essentially, he takes Robb's place amongst the Starks. The rest of the families are the same.

Thirdly, I have aged the characters up from the books. Ages are this:

Ned, Catelyn, Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, Robert = same age as books.

Joffrey Baratheon/Lannister = 16

Robb Baratheon = 15

Jon Stark = 15

Sansa Stark = 14

Arya Stark = 12

Myrcella Baratheon/Lannister = 12

Bran Stark = 11

Tommen Baratheon/Lannister = 10

Rickon Stark = 5

Lastly, I will be basically following the books as much as I possibly can. The storylines will be the same, but I think having Robb as a Baratheon will still allow for a lot of creativity. There may be some (major or minor) changes here and there, but for the most part I do wanna stick to the books/show. I'm re-watching the show right now, so don't be surprised if bits match up to the show and not the books.

So, there we go! I'm gonna post the first actual chapter tomorrow (or later on today for people in the UK) and please bear with me with the other chapters. Hopefully I'll be able to get a few chapters written before I post again so at least I can give a few regular updates.

None of this fic will be beta'd, apologises.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except perhaps the character name Robb Baratheon. But I'm not sure so we'll just leave it at that!


	2. Chapter 2 - Robb I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __Here's chapter one folks. Like I said previously this is my first ASOIAF fic, so I hope I do this brilliant series at least a little bit of justice. I must admit, incest is not my thing at all, but Robb/Sansa is my definitive guilty pleasure, and I thought I'd give it a go but with a little twist. _

_PS, the Robb as a Baratheon aspect was inspired by this fic:_

_ /works/429682__ check it out!_

_I still own nothing. However I am in possession of a twitter account, KT_McC_ follow me and follow the progress of this fic! Or just follow me and see what a cool person I am!_

_Enjoy!_

_Robb_

The procession had been moving onwards for what seemed like an eternity to Robb Baratheon. A keen rider, he would gladly have galloped well ahead of the seemingly endless line of people who had joined him, his family and their original retinue on their journey North.

Robb could tell his father was one in the same mind. King Robert Baratheon was a loud, exuberant man, who hid behind no false pretenses. He loudly cursed the slow pace at which they moved before turning to his second born son to share a bawdy joke in an attempt to keep his mind upon less frustrating issues.

Of all His Grace's children, Robb took after him the most. Black haired and blue eyed, Robb was the very image of his father when he had been a young man. His build and personality also matched his father's, albeit with a more reserved mind and mouth.

The three remaining children of Robert Baratheon travelled more comfortably in the large and extremely slow moving carriage which also housed his mother, Queen Cersei. Blonde haired and green eyed, Crown Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were all Lannister to look upon.

Robert loved all his children well but had an easier time showing it to Robb, who shared the same thirsts and interests as his as his mother found it easier to shower Robb's siblings with love and admiration.

"How much time have we spent upon these roads, Father?" asked Robb, finally giving up on the hope of seeing Winterfell around the next corner turned.

"Too long, Robb. Too long," grumbled Robert Baratheon with a scowl on his face. "It has been 9 long years since I last laid eyes upon Ned, and I had hoped to reach Winterfell before Winter arrived."

"Surely it cannot be that much farther," insisted Robb.

"I wish I could answer that question my boy, but it seems a lifetime since I last travelled these Northern roads. I have no memory of these places, they belong in a different life," sighed the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Surely riding a little ahead of this column that plagues us would do no harm? It too seems a lifetime since I was able to ride and feel as though I had been given the gift of flight," argued Robb, knowing that with enough persuasion his father would glady gallop speedily beside his son.

King Robert did not answer for a moment, but seemed to give thought to the suggestion; he had always found it difficult to deny Robb anything, just as mother found it hard to deny anything to her eldest son.

Suddenly a devilsih grin lit up the King's face, making him look 10 years younger. Robb cherished those smiles; they had grown fewer and fewer as Robb grew up in King's Landing.

"Come my son, and I shall show you as best I can what kind of place the North truly is," his father boomed in that voice Robb loved so. "Barristan," called Robert, "my son and I yearn to once again feel the wind in our face. We shall ride ahead of the column."

"Aye, Your Grace," Barristan the Bold answered evenly. "I shall send Oakheart and Moore to accompany you."

"As you will," nodded Robert clearly unhappy at the thought of having more company than just himself and his son.

"What about Joff?" asked Robb. "Do you think he'd enjoy a ride?"

His father merely shrugged. "I see no harming in asking." The King turned to the two Kingsguard members who had rode upto flank the black haired Baratheons. "Moore, ask my eldest son if he would like to accompany myself and Robb on a ride."

Mandon Moore nodded stiffly before turning his horse and trotting back along then procession to find the Crown Prince.

"What are the Starks like?" Robb asked his father again, eager to know the people he would soon meet as well was able.

"I wish I were able to answer that," said Robert. "9 years is a long time. I'm sure Ned will be a different man to the one I left in Winterfell all those years ago. The same shall be said of my own self, no doubt. I do know, however, that Ned has a son the same age as you. Jon, his name is."

Robb perked up at the mention of another the same age as himself.

"Named after Jon Arryn he was," continued Robert fondly. "I'm sure you and the boy will get on. Joff will too, I pray."

"You've never been one for praying Father, why start now?" joked Robb.

"Joffrey is heir to the Iron Throne. He should be spending more time out in the courtyard with you practicing sword and lance and attending council meetings. Not hiding beneath his mother's skirts."

"Sometimes I think you are too hard on him," stated Robb. Joffrey did seem to prefer spending time with his mother than his father, but Robb found it difficult to judge him; he was guilty of spending too much time with his father, opposed to his mother.

"Sometimes I have to be Robb. Joffrey is my heir, he needs to learn to rule. If he is raised with the intention of ruling he'll do a damn better job than I ever have."

Robb could find nothing to say to that. Luckily he was saved the task of replying by the return of Mandon Moore:

"Prince Joffrey has opted to continue his journey in the Royal Carriage with his mother and youngest siblings, Your Grace."

"So be it," the King said simply before flashing Robb a sudden grin. "With any luck we shall reach Winterfell before a new day breaks."

Robb laughed as his father's own laughter brought them both to life. Urging his horse onwards, Robb began to make ground up on his father.

The King's booming laughter could still be heard even as he sped forward ahead of Robb. Mandon Moore and Arys Oakheart kept a respectful distance between the King and his son but even so, they too were required to gallop hard in order to keep up.

Robb could not tell how much time was spent riding at such speed before he saw his father's stallion begin to slow. Eventually the King brought his steed to a stop.

Breathless, Robb came to a stop beside his father. Breathing heavily, King Robert Barathon stared straight ahead, the emotion clearly visible in his blue eyes.

Turning his head, Robb inhaled sharply as he viewed Winterfell for the first time. He was stunned. Long had he assumed that King's Landing would be the greatest sight he would ever behold but Winterfell was able to amend this assumption immediately.

The gallop thus far had been mesmerizing. The North captivated Robb, as much as it seemed to captivate his father.

"What shall we do now Father?" Robb questioned, wondering if it was worth rejoining the column.

"We wait," his father replied simply. "I wish to commit this sight to memory so it may linger there for the remainder of my days."

Robb Baratheon sat steadily at the right side of his father, joining him in appreciating the sight of Winterfell before him. Even the sound of the first riders of the Royal procession coming up behind them was not enough to move father and son. Robb was able to tell immediately that this would be a memory with his father that would be remembered most fondly.

"Your Grace," began the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, "shall we continue on?"

"What? Yes, yes of course," the King responded, finally snapping out of his thoughts. "Fetch my eldest son, Selmy. Tell him he is to ride into Winterfell behind me. He is the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and it's time he began acting like it."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Robb, you shall ride behind your brother," ordered Robert. He suddenly clapped Robb on the shoulder. "You've done well today boy, you're a fine son to have." The genuine warmth in his father's voice stunned Robb. Robert Baratheon was not a man to show complex emotions. The true smile on his father's face and the pride in his voice was enough to rival the sight of The Maiden herself.

Joffrey Baratheon rode up to meet his brother and father with a bored look on his face. His sworn shield, Sandor Clegane, had already donned his fearsome Hound's helm.

Joffrey's golden curls shon in the days sun, but he said not a word as the procession began it's final journey to Winterfell. Robb suspected he was rather angry at having to leave the warmth and comfort of the Royal Carriage.

Robb began to feel absurdly nervous as he rode through the great Gate into Winterfell's centre. The way of life in the North could not be more different to the South. If he was honest with himself, he had already fallen in love with this Northen Kingdom. He did not want to bring shame upon himself or his family during their stay with the Starks.

Robb watched proudly as Robert Baratheon vaulted, almost youthfully, off his stallion. It seemed as though being back in the presence of his oldest and greatest friend only benefitted the King.

His father's loud laughter seemed to bounce off Winterfell's stone walls as he greeted Lord Eddard Stark by pulling him into a crushing hug. It may not seem so, but King Robert Baratheon had lost none of his most fabled strength.

As the King made his way along the line of Stark's, Robb took in each member of this Ancient House as his father did.

First was Lord Eddard. A serious looking man, Robb couldn't suppress his smile as he saw the stern mask crumble as he embraced Robert. Lord Eddard may be Warden of the North, but Robb was pleasantly surprised by his warm laughter.

Lady Catelyn Stark was a true beauty, Robb thought. Her face radiated elegance, her Tully red hair and blue eyes and fitting contrast to her husband's grey eyes and dark hair.

The youngest Stark child, Rickon, was no more than 5 years of age. Standing to the left of his mother, he too had the Tully look although his facial features were much more Stark than Tully.

Next was the first born son of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. Jon Stark was tall like his father, and truly had his look. As much as Robb was the son of Robert Baratheon, Jon was the son of Eddard Stark. As Robb caught the eye of the heir to Winterfell, he gave the lad a respectful nod, to which Jon gave his own in reply.

A flash of red caused Robb to look away from the Stark heir. His breath caught in his throat as Robb's eyes fell upon the eldest Stark daughter. This girl was Tully through and through, thought Robb. Red hair as vibrant as Robb had ever seen, and blue eyes to rival his own, Sansa Stark was the most beautiful girl Robb Baratheon had ever laid eyes upon.

He guessed that she could be no more that a year younger than he was, although admittedly she was tall. _Is she looking at me?_ Thought Robb madly as Sansa's gaze shifted and a smile crept onto her face.

Out of the corner of his eye Robb caught a gleam of blonde. _No, he thought. She admires the Crown Prince._ Without hesitation, a scowl came to Robb's handsome face.

Joff smirked back at Sansa, as Robb looked on.

The shout from his father brought Robb out of his thoughts:

"Ned, take me to your crypts. I wish to pay my respects."

"We've been travelling for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait," argued his mother, the Queen, who had emerged from the carriage as her Lord husband had introduced himself to the family of his oldest friend.

Robb was suddenly unsure of where to look. Why was his father in such a hurry to visit the crypts of Winterfell?

However, he had no time to dwell on this question. As soon as the King and the Lord of Wintefell disappeared from the courtyard, a stableboy appeared at Robb's side to take his horse from him.

Dismounting, Robb felt unsure of where to go. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen had departed with their mother, leaving Robb alone.

The Starks too had dispersed. Lady Catelyn has ushered her daughters and youngest sons inside with herself, no doubt wishing to prepare them for the night's feast and celebrations.

Jon Stark, however, had remained in the courtyard. Robb made his way forward, intending to show the Stark heir every courtesy he had been taught. But Jon bet him in the race to introduce himself:

"Prince Robb," intoned Jon, bowing politely.

"Please, none of this Prince nonsense," insisted Robb. "Except in the presence of our mothers, perhaps. I do believe they will expect nothing but perfection from us."

Jon Stark laughed at that. "You speak truly."

"My name is Robb, that is all you need call me," the young Baratheon smiled.

"Then it is only fitting I return the favour. My name is Jon," came the reply from the eldest Stark as he reached out his arm.

Robb shook hands with Jon, feeling at ease with him already.

"Come, I shall give you a tour of Winterfell," smiled Jon.

The two young men made their way steadily around the great castle. They were able to share an easy raport with each other; their common interests and similar personalities making things much easier.

Jon regaled Robb with many of his youthful adventures with his siblings. Robb found himself feeling incredibly envious of the Stark family. Robb and his father had a great bond, and there was no doubt, that Tommen and Myrcella were the sweetest siblings Robb could have asked for, but it was his mother and elder brother that Robb had somewhat strained relations with.

His mother may be a Baratheon by marriage but Robb was fool; there was no love lost between his mother and father.

The Queen loved him, Robb knew, but it seemed as though she loved him least of all her children, while she loved Joffrey most.

And Joff himself was an arrogant twit at best. Robb had no qualms about thinking this, his brother had never showed him any sort of brotherly affection.

But that did not mean he did not love them.

With the Starks it could not be more different, they loved each family member equally and were truly close. Rickon was the baby of the family and even at 5 was still treated as such.

Bran was a climber, Jon told Robb, and knew Winterfell as well as anyone.

Sansa was the perfect lady; polite and kind to everyone she met.

Arya was no lady, Jon had chuckled. Many a time she had staged an escape from her embroidery lessons with Septa Mordane to come find her oldest brother out in the yard.

And the Lord and Lady of Winterfell could not have been more different to the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They held a true love for each other. It was this fact more than any other that Robb envied.

As the tour came to an end, only then did Robb and Jon realise what hour it was. Explaining in rushed voices that they must go and ready themselves for the welcoming feast, Robb and Jon went their seperate ways.

Almost before he knew it, Robb was preparing to enter the Great Hall of Winterfell. Lord Eddard entered first, escorting the Queen. His father then followed with Lady Stark on his arm.

The children then made their way into the Hall. Young Rickon went first. Robb moved to his right slightly to get a better view of the youngest Stark as he mustered enough dignity to complete his walk almost perfectly. A short stop in the middle to turn around and smile proudly at his siblings was the only incident. Robb had laughed loudly with Jon and the Starks at the sight.

Bran and Tommen walked side by side to join Rickon at the table. The young boys strode forward masterfully doing their respectives houses proud.

Robb was next up, and as the second son of Robert and Cersei, he was to escort the second daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, Arya Stark, to the long table that had been set out below the High Table for the Stark and Baratheon children. Arya greatly amused Robb. She had a sharp wit and a mischievous streak in her which only endeared her more to Robb.

As he made his way towards the front of the hall, Robb had to fight to control his laughter; Arya was making the most peculiar noises, evidently trying to cause a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms to embarass himself in some way. Luckily, Robb was able to streer his partner quickly to their places before this laughter threatened to overcome him.

As Robb took his seat at the table he raised his head to watch the final two pairs make their way forwards. Jon accompanied his sister Myrcella who, much to Robb's amusement kept throwing shy glances towards the heir of Winterfell. Only Jon's small smile gave any indication that he was aware of these looks.

Finally, the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Joffrey Baratheon entered the hall with Sansa Stark on his arm. Robb found himself staring at the Starks eldest daughter as she floated towards the dias. Wearing a gown of light blue, her eyes were accented perfectly and her red hair shone immaculately, complimenting Joff's golden curls. They made a truly radiant coupling Robb thought grudgingly.

As the Crown Prince, Joff took his seat at the middle of the 'children's' table, with Sansa seated to his left and Robb to his right. Arya sat to Robb's right side with Jon beside her and Rickon beside him. Robb had no doubt that Lady Stark had arranged the seating so Jon could keep an eye on her two most unruly children.

Sansa and Bran, however, had been seated amongst more royal company. To Sansa's left sat Prince Tommen, who had been seated beside his sister with Bran completing the table.

Behind Robb, a shout went up from his father and with that, the feast began.

Conversation on the left side of the table seemed courteous and polite, but Robb quickly eased into a japing banter with Jon and Arya. Rickon happily completed their group; the thoughts of the five year old soon breaking the three older individuals down in hysterics.

Their laughter was interrupted then by a servant who had brought a jug of wine to their table. "Courtesy of His Grace," the Winterfell servant said to Robb, Jon and Joffrey. Robb looked around at his father, finding him looking down at the young men seated so closely at the table. In truth, Joff had said not one word to anyone other than Sansa, but it seemed that the King had not noticed this. Catching Robb looking up at him, his father merely winked at him.

"Tell His Grace we thank him most humbly," Jon said graciously, already moving to pour himself a cup of the King's own wine. "Robb?"

"Yes, I'll have one," grinned Robb.

"I want one too," whined Arya, but Jon had enough sense not too risk the wrath of his lady mother.

"You've already had a cup Arya, and Father said no more than one." Jon spoke firmly, but his smirk gave away the game. "You can have another half cup and no more. And don't tell a soul."

"I'm not stupid Jon."

"I know you're not little sister," replied Jon fondly.

Robb watched the exchange with a small smile. As Jon and Arya settled into a comfortable silence and Rickon's eyes continued to droop Robb began to take in his surroundings.

He had no idea how long they had been sitting at the table for, but enough drink had been consumed for the men at the lower tables to be creating a suitable amount of noise. Even amongst everything, the laughter of King Robert Baratheon could still be heard above it all. It seemed as though the King had been sharing a joke with Robb's uncle Tyrion. Ridiculed by most at Court for his dwarfism, it gladdened Robb that his Father had always got along with his wife's youngest brother.

It was only now that Robb noticed that his mother was no longer sitting at the High Table. Lord Eddard was deep in conversation with his own brother, Benjen, while Lady Catelyn was watching the musicians play with great interest, but Queen Cersei was nowhere to be seen.

Scanning the hall, all the while knowing that he would find his Lady Mother nowhere, Robb picked up on the conversation taking place to his left.

"Is it true you are the most promising sword and lance in King's Landing, my prince?" Sansa asked breathlessly.

Joff laughed that arrogant laugh Robb knew so well. "It is true, sweet lady. Even my brother here dare not face me. Is that not so, dear brother?"

Robb considered his answer carefully before answering. "Truly, I have never faced my elder brother, my lady. Joff knows such a match would not poise a challenge."

The smile that appeared on Sansa's face at his answer was almost enough to make Robb glad of his brother's lies. Even if the smile was not for him.

As he answered, Robb heard snort's of laughter coming from his other side. Joffrey wasted no time in delving back into conversation with Sansa, boasting shamelessly about his fabled victories, leaving Robb free to confront the sources of the laughter.

"You're cleverer than you look, young Prince," joked Jon, as Arya and even little Rickon continued to laugh. Robb smiled at that, savouring his small win over his older brother. In his arrogance, Joffrey had not even clicked on to the true meaning of Robb's words.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Rickon was eventually coerced into going to bed by the Lady Catelyn before she returned to the Hall. By this time Robb and Jon had finished the jug of wine given to them by Robb's father, as well as two others, and both boys were feeling the full effects. Joff had declined to take even a single cup, even from his Father's own jug.

The dancing was in full swing by this point of the night; the Northern lords and ladies still able to stand eagerly stepping in time with this music. Seized by a sudden urge to dance, Robb made his way up to the High Table where Lady Catelyn had returned to her seat.

"Would you care to join me in a dance, my Lady? Robb asked politely, praying he was keeping everything together.

The Lady of Winterfell took his hand gladly. Robb noticed his Father and Lord Eddard looking at them with smiles on their faces.

Robb and Lady Catelyn moved together well; the older woman had a natural ability. As Robb laughed cheerfully with the lords and ladies around him, he noticed that Jon had also moved towards to the dancefloor with Myrcella on his arm. And even more shockingly the King had managed to put down his goblet long enough to offer Arya a dance. Jon and Robb looked at each other and chuckled as the King and Arya danced merrily in the centre of the space cleared for the dancing to take place. King Robert had no gift for dancing, but neither did Arya it seemed. They made quite a pair; their laughter as sweet as any tune.

When the music eventually came to an end, Robb was truly out of breath. Lady Catelyn thanked him graciously for the dance and informed him it was time she retired for the night, but not before telling him to stay and enjoy the celebrations with Jon for as long as he wished.

"Thank you, my lady. I have had a truly perfect night."

Out of the corner of his eye, Robb noticed Sansa and Joff still engaged in conversation. Or, rather, Sansa was still engaged in listening to Joff talk.

_Well, almost perfect_.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __I hope you all enjoyed that somewhat! I know where I wanna go and mostly where I want to end up with this fic, but how long it's going to take me to get their is anyone's guess. I have work and stuff but I've started chapter 2 already and will hopefully be able to update soon. The plan is to write as much as possible so I've got updates to fall back on if I get to a point where I'm struggling._

_That said, please kick my ass if I'm taking to long to update._

_But there is chapter one for all you fine readers out there. Reviews a greatly appreciated, in any form. Feedback will only help! _

_Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3 - Sansa I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __Chapter 2 is here! Thanks so much for the follows, favourites and reviews. They mean a heck of a lot. This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the first, but I found it harder to write from Sansa's point of view than I did Robb's. But I do expect that Sansa chapters should grow in length with the more I write._

_There's a few things I'll address in the author's note at the end of the chapter, but for now, here's chapter 2. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_Sansa_

The feast had been a splendid affair, although Sansa could scarely remember much about it. The duration of the feast had been spent with Crown Prince Joffrey, drowning in his startling green eyes and listening intently to his majestic voice.

Sansa had never experienced such a perfect evening.

Joffrey had been courteous and polite; everything a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms should be.

"Joffrey." Sansa loved the sound of his name as it escaped from her lips. Bowing her head to hide the blush that had crept onto her cheeks, Sansa attempted to once again focus on her stitches.

But it was no use; last night she had experienced her very own fairytale, just like all the songs she loved so dearly. Embroidery seemed like such a step backwards.

While Sansa's thoughts were consumed by Prince Joffrey, Arya was talking loudly about how she had spent her time at the feast.

"Robb was telling me all about King's Landing," Arya was saying. "But he says he prefers it here in Wintefell, and can't wait to go riding. He even said I could go, if mother let's me."

"Arya," scolded Septa Mordane. "You must not address the Prince by only his first name. It is not proper."

"But he said I could," Arya argued stubbornly. "Jon and Rickon and Bran call him Robb as well."

"Even so, you are a lady, and should practice the proper courtesies." The Septa spoke firmly, but Arya continued with her tales.

"I don't know why you spent all your time listening to Joffrey talking when you could have joined in with me and Robb and Jon and Rickon."

"Because _Prince _Joffrey is handsome and clever and all a prince should be," replied Sansa, seeing her gallant Joffrey in her mind's eye.

"So is Robb," insisted Arya. "And he doesn't look down on us and Winterfell."

"Joffrey will be King one day, Arya." Sansa spoke politely to her sister under Septa Mordane's gaze, but she really wanted to shout at her sister for being so silly. "He's accustomed to the grandeur of King's Landing. Winterfell could never match such a place."

Arya was outraged. "You're so stupid Sansa. You think I'm childish, but you're the one who thinks everything in life should be like a song. Winterfell is your home. The North is your home."

"Arya, that is enough. Apologise to your sister," the Septa ordered.

But Arya remained silent.

Finally, Sansa spoke: "It's quite alright, Septa Mordane." She spoke cordially, remembering her courtesies even now.

"Why can't you act more like your sister, Arya?" The Septa wondered, giving Sansa a rewarding smile.

With that, Arya threw her needlework onto the floor and departed. Sansa did not react, this was just typical Arya behaviour.

Septa Mordane sighed beside her. "I will have to inform your lady mother of this."

"Do not trouble yourself, Septa. I shall tell my mother of today's events." Even as she said the words, Sansa knew Lady Catelyn would never hear of Arya's departure, at least not from her. Arya may be a pain, but she was still her sister.

Sansa continued to work away at her stitches, all the while wondering about Arya. Sansa supposed she would be down in the yard by now, watching the princes and her brothers. Joff would be down there, Sansa realised.

How wonderful it would be to see her gallant prince wielding a sword. His tales at the feast the previous night had been remarkable. Joff would make a truly formidable opponent, for even Jon.

"Septa, I wonder, may I be excused? I would go and retrieve Arya. Perhaps if I can convince her to return to the day's lesson there would be no need to speak of this to my lady mother?" Sansa felt bad for lying to Septa Mordane, but her desire to see Prince Joffrey in the field far outweighed her desire to perfect her stitches.

Septa Mordane regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "Alright Sansa, you may go. I pray you shall find your sister easily enough."

Ever the lady, Sansa rose elegantly and make her exit from the room. Once out of the Septa's sight, Sansa quickened her pace, eager to see her prince in action.

Sansa found her younger sister on the covered bridge between the Great Keep and the armoury. Arya could not have found a better spot, Sansa thought as she approached her sister.

Nymeria was lying lazily by Arya's feet, and it was the direwolf who first noticed Sansa approach. Shock clearly showed on Arya's face before a smirk formed on her lips.

"You left the lesson too?" she questioned.

"I informed the Septa of my plan to locate you and bring you back to the lesson," Sansa replied stiffly.

Arya merely raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? Well, I guess we better go back then."

Sansa certainly hadn't expected that. "Really?" she blurted before she could stop herself.

"Oh yes. I'm sure Septa Mordane will be awaiting our return."

"Well, yes, I suppose we had better go." Sansa hesitated before beginning the journey back to their embroidery room, and that was all Arya needed.

"I knew it! You didn't leave to come get me, you left because you want to watch what the boys are doing too." Arya's grin was unbearably smug to Sansa. But even so, she had the right of it.

Sansa moved to stand beside Arya in order to gain a better vantage point of the yard. Bran, and a boy who Sansa assumed to be Prince Tommen were currently sparing. Sansa looked on proudly as Bran landed hit after hit, although both boys were so thickly padded she doubt Tommen could feel a thing.

As Bran and Tommen continued to spar, albeit with their movement becoming slower and slower, Sansa began to scan the yard, wishing to find her prince.

First she spotted Jon standing with Theon and Prince Robb. The older boys were all smiling, evidently enjoying the sight of Bran and Tommen. While Jon shouted encouragement to Bran, Prince Robb was yelling eagerly for his own brother.

Sansa considered Joff's younger brother for a moment. While his siblings all took after thier mother with their blonde hair and green eyes, Prince Robb bore a startling resemblance to his father, King Robert. Black haired and blue eyed, his appearance could not have been more different to Joff's. Sansa tried to imagine him with the blonde hair and green eyes of his siblings, but somehow she could not manage it.

Suddenly, the black haired Baratheon shifted his gaze from the sparring and looked up to the window where Sansa and Arya were currently standing. Arya immediately waved down at the Prince, but Sansa dropped her head, blushing furiously; she had been staring and Prince Robb he had caught her doing so.

Taking a calming breath to regain her lady-like composure, Sansa once again began her search for Joff. It was a few moments before Sansa finally spotted her charming prince. He was standing well back from the rest of the boys. Sansa could only wonder why.

It was in that moment that Ser Rodrik called a halt to the sparring between Bran and Tommen. The master-at-arms voice carried clearly over the yard.

"Prince Joffrey, would you care for another bout?"

Sansa was surprised to see Joff's bored expression as he made his way towards the group. "_This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."_

The old knight seemed thrown by the comment. "How so?"

"_I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword," _was Joffrey's reply. Sansa watched the scene below with wide eyes.

Jon stepped forward. "As I remember, you struggled to land any hits against me."

Prince Robb chuckled at that comment. Sansa was stunned; how could Joff's own brother laugh at such things being said?

"Joff, we are guests here at Winterfell. Ser Rodrik has allowed us to join his training, it's only right we train as he sees fit." Prince Robb spoke to Joff in such a way that it almost seemed as though their ages were reversed and Joff was being chatsized by an older, wiser brother.

Arya sniggered beside Sansa. "See that sweet sister? Joffrey looks upon Jon and Rodrik with contempt."

As much as Sansa hated to admit it, her little sister had a point. But she pushed the doubt to the back of her mind, Joff must just be having a truly awful day.

"I'm sure Joffrey is used to much fiercer competition, Arya," she stated simply.

"Robb and Jon were well matched, and Jon bet Joffrey easily," was her sister's reply. "He's not the fighter he told you he was."

"Why would he lie? Princes don't lie."

"Because he's a twit." And with that Arya ran off, Nymeria following at her heels.

Sansa could have went after her sister, but it would do no good. Instead she took a moment to take one final look at the yard.

Joffrey had disappeared indoors but Jon, Theon and Prince Robb remained. Theon had made some sort of jest, causing her brother and the prince to burst into laughter.

A smile came to Sansa's face then, seeing her brother getting on so well with at least one of their royal guests.

"Robb," she whispered softly, testing the name out loud.

Sansa found that she liked it.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __I hope you all enjoyed that. Let me know your thoughts!_

_A few of you did address me making the choice to use the name Robb. Honestly, I can see your points very clearly, because you do immediately think 'Robb Stark' whenever he is mentioned with one of the Stark kids. Well, I certainly felt that writing this chapter._

_But I'm sticking with Robb Baratheon, because this essentially is a bit of an AU in which Robb is born a Baratheon, not a Stark. I hope this doesn't cause too many problems for anyone reading._

_Also, I'd appreciate everyone's opinions about something: Who should Jon's direwolf be? I'm not sure I want Grey Wind to be Jon's because Robb is associated with Grey Wind, but this is an AU. Should Grey Wind simply not exist? Should Ghost still be Jon's direwolf even though he is true born? Any other options? Thoughts/opinions are greatly appreciated, and I'll go with whatever is the most popular. PM me, or leave a review with your thoughts._

_Until next time!_


	4. Chapter 4 - Ned I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ I forgot to say previous Author's Note's, that purely for the reason of being able to move the fic along, if I don't change anything that's happened it's more than likely I won't write about it directly, unless it's important to this story. For example, this chapter is in Ned's POV, but takes place after the crypts scene in the first book. Ned has been appointed Hand of the King, but I just haven't seen the point in writing about it since the crypts scene between Ned and Robert is basically the same as the books. However, because the whole Joffrey/Sansa thing is important to the fic, their betrothal will be addressed in this chapter._

_That's kind of long winded but I thought I'd better get it out there just so there isn't any confusion._

_Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Ned_

Newly appointed Hand of the King, Eddard Stark made his wearily towards the room they had given over to Robert for the duration of his stay at Winterfell.

It had been five days since Robert had named him Hand, and Ned still wasn't sure how to feel. He had never been able to refuse Robert anything when they childhood friends; how he could deny him as his King?

The King had requested his presence at midday. Ned had found that strange in itself; Robert Baratheon would not give a second thought to demanding Ned's company.

As Ned approached the door to Robert's room, he pushed his ever growing feeling of dread to the back of his mind and made the choice to show some faith in Robert before jumping to conclusions about his plans.

The Kingsguard knights posted outside his door were Barristan Selmy and Meryn Trant. Selmy nodded in recognition of Ned's arrival, yet Trant remained stony-faced as he moved to allow Ned access to the door.

Upon entering the King's chamber's, Ned found his oldest friend sitting at his table enjoying a goblet of wine with Tyrion Lannister. At first, Ned had been shocked to find that Robert genuinely enjoyed the company of his wife's youngest brother. But after meeting the youngest of the Lannisters he understood. Robert and Tyrion shared a fondness for certain things, wine and women most prominent amongst them, resulting in a pleasant friendship evolving.

"Your Grace." Ned bowed deeply to his King.

"Ah, Ned," exclaimed Robert. "Come join us."

"No thank you, Your Grace." Eddard Stark was not a fan of drinking through the day. A small cup with his evening meal perhaps, or a couple at a feast, but no more.

"Suit yourself," grumbled Robert.

With that, Tyrion Lannister rose from his seat. "Pray excuse me, Your Grace. I know you and Lord Stark have much to discuss."

"Right you are Tyrion," Robert replied as the Lannister more commonly called the Imp left his chambers.

"Come now Ned, take a seat. You're sure you wouldn't like some wine. Or ale?"

"Thank you Your Grace, but no," the Lord of Winterfell replied politely.

"Enough of this 'Your Grace' nonsense. I count on you to tell me as a friend when I'm acting the fool. I do not regard you as another High Lord I must lavish with empty courtesies. Do not think of me as your King who you must treat accordingly. You are a true friend to me Ned, and I find that I am far too short of those these days." Robert paused to take a gulp of his ale.

With Robert silent, Ned took a moment to properly analyze his friend. He certainly was not the man Ned had last seen 9 years ago. Robert Baratheon was once the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms; a fierce warrior able to inspire confidence and love from even the most unlikliest of sources. During the Rebellion, Ned and Jon Arryn had been the tacticians, but Robert was the natural leader.

King Robert Baratheon was a entirely different man to behold. Overweight, with a coal black beard covering his face, Ned had been shocked when Robert first arrived at Winterfell. But as the Royal visit continued, Ned began to recognise the man he had once known. Robert's humour and personality had certainly not changed, although the pressures of being King had deflated him slightly.

"Your Sansa," Robert began, "she's quite a beauty."

Ned smiled a small smile at that; a smile a father smiled when one of his children were complimented. "She is," he agreed simply.

"A true little lady. Lyanna had been much on my mind. Being in Winterfell, it was impossible that she would not be. I called you here today to put this idea to you. My Joff, your Sansa. Let them join our Houses in the way Lyanna and I should have all those years ago."

Ned feigned shock at Robert's proposal although he had aniticpated a proposition of this sort.

"I'm not suggesting marriage, not yet. But a betrothal. Joffrey still has many lessons to learn. He shall be King one day, and your Sansa will make the perfect Queen."

_Gods, Sansa Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, _Ned thought. He had always wanted the best for his children but the thought of his eldest daughter as Queen did not overjoy Ned as it undoubtably would Sansa. King's Landing was not Winterfell; it was an entirely different way of life in the South. Regardless of Ned's own doubts, he knew Sansa would prosper in the the capital. Even before the suggestion of a betrothal to Prince Joffrey, Ned and Catelyn had broken words about Sansa, Arya and Bran joining him in King's Landing.

In fact, they had argued for most of the evening about Robert's decision and what it meant for their family. Catelyn deemed Ned being appointed Hand of the King a great honour, one not to be passed up. In the end, despite his own misgivings about leaving Winterfell, Ned agreed to travel to King's Landing and take up office as Robert's Hand. Cat had agreed that Sansa and Arya should leave Winterfell. As daughters of House Stark, they would be expected to make good marriages in the South while Jon ruled as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Bran was another matter. Catelyn had amadantly refused the notion of her beloved Bran going South with her husband and daughters. It had taken much reasoning for her to submit to Ned's will on the matter.

"This is a great honour, Your Grace," Ned managed to say, the words empty of any true meaning.

"There we have it!" boomed Robert, a grin spreading across his face. "House Baratheon and House Stark were always destined to be joined. I had prayed that Lyanna and I would have been the ones to do it, but Joff and Sansa will make a regal couple."

Robert jumps up from his seat, eager to embrace Ned. Indulging his friend, Ned pushed himself up.

* * *

Sansa is overjoyed with the news, as Ned knew she would be.

"Betrothed to Joffrey," she breathed, blue eyes positively alight with happiness. "Oh Father, it's everything I've ever wanted."

Ned smiled for Sansa, keeping his own reservations to himself. _She will not be alone, I too will be in King's Landing, _he reminded himself. What he had seen of Joffrey so far gnawed away at him; they boy did not seem to take after his father in any way. But, it would be many years before Joffrey was crowned King; Ned prayed the boy would begin to show some of the more favourable Baratheon traits before then. Joffrey seemed Lannister through and through, which made Ned feel increasingly uneasy.

"Sweetling, you understand that marriage is still many years away. Even so, when you leave Winterfell two days hence, you may never have the chance to return."

Sansa's grin did not falter. "You mean, I will be staying in King's Landing forever? How wonderful!"

Ned sighed. "Yes sweetling, wonderful." It would be no use trying to explain to Sansa the finality of leaving Winterfell, he could only hope she would realise it herself before she left.

Winter was coming.

But the South awaited.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __I hope you all found that ok. These first few chapters are very much just laying the groundwork. We all know what I'm building up to, I just hope I can put my own spin on things._

_Thanks so much for all the suggestions regarding the direwolves. They haven't had much to do yet, but have no fear, they will. I hope you will all be pleased with the decision I have made._

_And a huge thanks for the reviews last chapter, and the on going favourites and follows. They mean a heck of a lot._

_Until next time!_


	5. Chapter 5 - Robb II

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __This chapter may seem like a bit of a filler, but I think it's important to get Robb's thoughts straight, since he's the character I have most creative influence with._

_I was in two minds about this Robb chapter. This was one option for him, but the other, well, it gives away the next chapter so I'll not bother mentioning option two. This chapter is written and posted, I just hope you all like it!_

_The next chapter is something that happened in the books, but it's important and I will more than likely be tweeking a few things, just to keep stuff in line with his fic._

_Disclaimer: Nope, not mine._

_This is unbeta'd, as always._

_Robb_

The journey back South was far more interesting than the one North. Robb had spent a great deal of time with Arya, who seemed to have a gift for escaping her Septa. Arya knew her household guards well, as each one knew her well in return. More often than naught, Robb would find himself riding alongside the younger Stark daughter, her direwolf ever present, after she had managed to secure her own horse.

They were two weeks into their return journey, and this day Robb found himself hunting with his father, Lord Stark and uncle Renly, amongst others. Renly had arrived that very day, with his own procession of riders to mark the King's return to Southern terrain.

The change in the land as they moved from North to South was astonishing. The North had such a raw feel to it, thought Robb, a more pure feeling to it than the Southern half of the Seven Kingdoms. There was something truly magical about the North. The land was old, and somehow _powerful_. Robb Baratheon had no idea why these thoughts came to him. He was not of the North, but the air that surrounded him in Winterfell felt almost natural.

Jon Stark had told the Baratheon prince many tales about the history of Winterfell and the other holdfasts found throughout the Northen Kingdom. Robb had learned much about the North in his lessons, but not nearly enough it seemed.

The tale of the discovery of the direwolves had engaged Robb most of all. Jon reminisced about the day they were found, and how the wolves had grown so fast it was almost unnatural. Even from the point of view as an outsider, Robb knew these direwolves were meant for the Stark children.

Jon's wolf was an enormous animal. The only wolf of white fur, while his litter mates were grey or black, Jon had named him Ghost. When Robb had asked why Jon had claimed the most unusual of the direwolves, Jon had merely shrugged and spoke of the connection he felt the moment he picked the young pup up for the first time.

Sansa had named her direwolf Lady, a name that made Robb smile even now. Watching the Stark's interact with their companions, Robb could tell each pairing was well suited. Lady was the most regal looking of the wolves, and the most well behaved. But she could also be fierce. It was this quality that endeared Robb to Sansa more, for he suspected the eldest Stark daughter would also show her fierceness in time, a day he eagerly awaited.

Nymeria was truly Arya's wolf, and the direwolf Robb had seen most of. Arya had never been keen on leaving Wintefell, she had told Robb as much. But it was clear that her wolf gave her much comfort. Lord Eddard spent a great deal of time with the King, and Sansa with her betrothed, leaving Arya alone. Arya and Jon had been especially close, and Robb suspected she spent her days with him in an attempt to re-live the type of days she spent with her oldest brother.

Bran's direwolf remained unnamed, a detail of great sadness to Robb. The direwolf had been seen very little in the days between Bran's fall and the departure of the King. He had been heard night and day though, mourning for this master's accident with his litter-mates. Robb hoped more than anything Bran would wake to give his companion a name.

Young Rickon had given the name Shaggydog to his direwolf. Given that the rest of the direwolves took greatly after their master's, Shaggydog worried Robb. He was a fiercesome beast, full of anger, and had been involved in more than one biting incident during Robb's time at Winterfell. Robb had a great fondness for the youngest Stark, and sympathised with him for being seperated from his father and sisters so early on, but the unruliness of him in the days after Bran's fall was worrying.

_Five direwolves for five Stark children, _concluded Robb. _Yes, five._ Suddenly Robb's thoughts turned back to the ninth night of their return journey.

_It had been a cold, dark night and he had been making his way back to his own tent after sharing a cup of hot mulled wine with his father. They had made camp in an area already bare due to the decision to use this same spot during their passage towards Winterfell. Tree's stood tall and proud all around him, creating unique shadows everywhere. As a prince of the Seven Kingdoms, he was being escorted back to his own tent by two guards. Men could be heard clearly enjoying drinks as they settled down for the night. He had found it to be a strange experience. This forrest did not seem the place for men to get drunk and make such bawdy jokes. It contrasted with everything the dark, solemn forrest represented._

_Sure he had seen something move in the shadows of the trees, he had turned his head so quickly, so wildly his eyes seemed to take an eternity to focus on the darkness. Just when he was sure he had imagined the movement, a large shadow advanced, continuing to move until it had disappeared out of sight. Completely unsure of what he had seen, he had made no mention of the sighting to anyone. His guards hadn't even noticed anything at the as he continued to spent days with Arya and Nymeria he began to wistfully imagine the animal had been a direwolf._

Realising he had been lost in his own thoughts for too long a period of time, Robb turned his attention of his uncle. Much like Robb, Renly was the very image of Robert Baratheon as a young man. It was almost as though there was three versions of the King.

The young prince thought very highly of his uncle Renly. Quick to laughter, much like his eldest brother, Renly Baratheon was well loved by the people of King's Landing. Robb traded easy japes with his uncle as they rode through the woods, while his father and Lord Stark were participating in their own conversation just ahead.

"So tell me uncle, how has King's Landing faired during the King's absence?" Robb asked.

Renly merely shrugged. "The rich remain rich and the poor remain poor. There has been no issues of great importance. Hence my arrival today. Varys, Littlefinger and Pycelle are competent enough not to allow the city to fall in the weeks before the return of the royal family."

_Typical Renly, _Robb thought. _No great excitement in the capital, so he looks for it elsewhere._

Renly Baratheon had always found appearance to be of great importance. Even since Robb could remember, his youngest uncle had never been garbed in anything less than splendid in quality. His father had told him many tales of his youth, usually involving Renly desperate to be at the centre of the events. While Robert Baratheon would happily live a simple life, Renly was made for court. The world of grand titles and joyous feasts fit Renly perfectly.

"Father hopes to make better progress now that we have returned to the South. He is not one to move slowly."

Renly chuckled at that. "True, young nephew. Very true. Now, tell me of Winterfell."

A smile broke upon Robb's face at the mention of Winterfell. He immediately delved into an eager account of his time in the North. He told his uncle of the steadfast friendship that developed with Jon, of the days spent in the company of Arya, and the Godswood adventures he had taken part in with Rickon and Bran.

Robb's wistful smile faltered at the mention of Bran. Robb and Jon had joined their fathers and many of the other men present in Winterfell for a day's hunting. Robb and his uncle Tyrion had shared much banter with the heir of Winterfell and his household guards as their fathers rode ahead, taking the hunting more seriously. The day had been a memorable one, albeit for the wrong reasons upon their return of Winterfell, where they had been greeted with the mournful howling of the Stark direwolves, and the news that young Bran had fallen from the broken tower. Looking back on it all, Robb realised that Jon's own direwolf, Ghost, had been subdued for much of the day, although both Jon and Robb had not dwelled upon the issue for long.

Lord Eddard had departed from Winterfell with his daughters mere days after, although Bran still remained unconscious. The King had offered his Hand more time to remain with his family, but Lord Stark had responded that Bran's fate was in the hands of the Gods now, his absence making no difference in the matter. Eddard Stark would do his duty, no matter how difficult, Robb had been told by his father that same night.

"You almost sound like a true Northman," Renly smiled.

"I shall certainly look upon King's Landing with different eyes," the young prince admitted.

"And what about young Sansa Stark?" his uncle asked casually.

Robb's breath hitched slightly. "What about her?"

"You mentioned all the other Stark children in your tales. No memories were made with her?"

Robb shook his head. "No, she is not one for running around in muddy training yards. Even before their betrothal, Sansa seemed to prefer the company of my elder brother."

"Ah, our gallant Crown Prince. How did he fair in the North?" laughed Renly. Robb smiled with his uncle. Joff had never taken to the North as his father and brother had. He had spent most of his time with their mother, venturing out into the training yard when it was expected of him. Even then he had nothing pleasant to say.

Robb thought back to the day he had spotted Sansa watching over their practice session. He had been sure that she must have heard Joffrey's harsh comments to Jon and Ser Rodrik, but if she had, it did not seem to have effected her.

He had also caught her looking at him that same day. Robb lowered his head to hide the blush that had crept to his face at the memory. For a wild moment he had imagined her stare to be one of adoration, that she was admiring him from afar. That very idea that he had thought that, even for the smallest of moments, left him feeling embarassed now. Sansa Stark had never shown an interest in him before, and he had not been able to find the courage to speak to her in the way he would with any of her siblings.

_I'll make more effort in King's Landing,_ he promised himself. _She may be betrothed to Joff but that doesn't mean I can't act cordially towards her. She shall be my Queen on day, I owe her my respect._

"What of Uncle Stannis?" Stannis Baratheon was the elder of King Robert's younger brothers, and Robb respected him hugely. Stannis sat on his brother's Small Council as the Master of Ships.

"Stannis left King's Landing the day after you did," stated Renly. "He see's the proclaimation of Ned Stark as Hand of the King to be an insult to him personally."

Robb was confused. "Why?"

"Because he's Stannis. He has sailed to Dragonstone. I've not bothered mentioning it to Robert yet, I'm sure Stannis will brood for a while and return to the capital to voice the injustice of it all soon enough."

The news of his uncle's departure disappointed Robb. Stannis was very unlike his brothers. Robert and Renly Baratheon were popular and well loved, while Stannis was not. He had a cold demenour, yet Robb knew no one more just, loyal or honourable. It was a blow to realise Stannis would not be in King's Landing when they made their return.

A shout went up from King Robert in front of them.

"Ah, it seems as though my dear brother had sighted his dinner," chuckled Renly as he urged his horse forward.

Robb laughed and followed suit.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __Yes, the ending is probably kind of abrupt, but there wasn't anything else I wanted in this chapter._

_Special shoutout to __**Freizer **__who helped me out with a few things, and also gave a lot of awesome suggestions about the fic. Many thanks!_

_You reviewers continue to make me smile and all happy. It really does mean a lot getting all this brilliant feedback. Everyone's favourites and alerts also mean a heck of a lot. Keep 'em all coming, by all means!_

_Till next time, my friends..._


	6. Chapter 6 - Sansa II

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ For book readers (and even show watchers), this chapter will be pretty familiar, but it also marks a changing point in the story. From here, I hope to be able to put a bit more of my own spin on events._

_Disclaimer: I still own nothing, just writing for fun. Lines taken directly from the book, A Game of Thrones, are marked in italics._

_Good news! I have found myself a beta reader! _**harrylee94**_ has helped me out so much with not just this chapter, but with future developments in this fic. Thanks for all your help so far. I look forward to continuing to work with you._

_Without further ado, here is chapter 6. Enjoy!_

_Sansa_

Sansa woke to an unusually quite camp. Rousing herself, she rose from her bed, washed and dressed for the day ahead.

Her father had joined King Robert, Prince Robb, Lord Renly and numerous others for a day of hunting. Sansa had yet to meet the King's youngest brother. He had only arrived in camp that morning, lingering for only a short time before setting off on the hunt.

The departure of the hunting party left the camp almost empty, it seemed to Sansa. Arya had been eager to join their father, but he had firmly told her no. This left Sansa to look after her younger sister, a prospect she did not find pleasant. Most days Sansa had found herself practicing her stitches with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole in their carriage while Arya gallivanted up and down the procession line. Mostly in the company of Prince Robb, it seemed.

Sansa had yet to see Joffrey since they had departed from Winterfell. Her golden prince had made no effort to find her. _He must be attended to important matters, _she told herself as the days stretched into weeks. She even found herself feeling jealous of Arya; why is it she could spend her days with a prince yet Sansa couldn't. _Why was it Prince Robb would ride in amongst his father's men yet Joff, the future King, was nowhere to be seen._

Sansa gradually found herself awaiting the days Arya would make a fleeting return to the carriage that housed herself and Jeyne as they travelled through the day. Spending day upon day with only her Septa and Jeyne for company was growing tiresome for Sansa. Her father would visit when he could, but those visits were far and inbetween; as Hand he had many responsibilities, even before their arrival in King's Landing.

This day, Sansa decided to do something about it. With the King hunting, they would remain at this site for another day, so there was not the usual hurry to dismantle tents and groom horses in preparation for their departure.

The hour was still early, and Jeyne slept on, but Sansa saw that Arya's bed was empty. Lord Eddard had permitted his daughters to keep their direwolves with them at nights and Lady lay leisurely at the foot of Sansa's travel bed, unconcerned at her master's movements.

When she was finally ready, Sansa spoke to her direwolf: "Lady, come."

The direwolf rose nimbly to her feet, as poised as her master as they left the tent. Sansa kept close to her most trusted companion as she navigated her way slowly between the many tents set up, taking in the events around her. Camp followers went about their usual mornings rituals of lighting fires and cooking food to break their fasts, while men who had not joined the hunt settled down to enjoy a day not spent upon horseback.

Realising that she did not know if Prince Joffrey had accompanied his father and brother on the hunt, Sansa quickened her pace, hoping to spot her prince.

Instead she found Arya.

Her sister was dressed in her usual breeches, dirty from the days before. Even her face was dirty.

"Arya, come back to the tent and find a more suitable outfit. You never know who we shall meet." Sansa spoke softly, addressing her troublesome little sister with as much courtesy as she could muster.

"I do not intend to remain in camp for long, dear sister," Arya replied sweetly.

"What could you possibly be doing. Most men are on the hunt, including Prince Robb. Who else would care to spend any time with you?"

Arya laughed loudly, drawing the attention of hedge knights seated nearby. "More people than you, I'd wager. Tell me, has golden boy been sighted yet?"

Fighting to control her temper, for ladies never lost their temper, Sansa took a deep breath. "What is it you plan on doing today then?" Sansa asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Arya took a moment before answering. Sansa suspected she was weighing up whether she could trust her older sister. Sighing, Arya finally gave her answer:

"_Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford_."

Sansa was puzzled. "_What rubies_?"

"_Rhaegar's rubies_," Arya scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "_This is where King Robert killed him and won_ _the Throne."_

"Why would you want to go looking for rubies with some butcher's boy?"

"Because it's boring sitting in the wheelhouse with you and Jeyne and Septa Mordane," stated Arya simply, standing up. "I want to see things."

At times, Sansa truly wondered whether Arya was her sister. Arya would quite happily spend her days in mud, acting like a boy, rather than practicing her ladylike courtesies. They didn't even _look_ alike. Arya had their father's look; dark haired and grey eyed with a long face, while Sansa was all Tully. Her red hair and blue eyes complimented each other perfectly.

"Father won't be back until evening. I should be back before him," Arya informed her elder sister.

Hurrying off, Arya turned around to shoot Sansa one last mischievous grin.

Sighing to herself, Sansa began to wonder about how she could spend her day. The camp was practically empty, and most of the knights she loved so had joined her father and the King. Pondering her options, Sansa was not looking at where she was walking. It was only when a large shadow darkened her line of vision that she looked up; Lady had led her towards the royal wheelhouse, where the Queen and three of her four children could be found.

Grinning, Sansa bent down to hug Lady, receiving a lick to the cheek in reply. Lady always seemed to know what Sansa wanted.

Unsure of her next move, Sansa stood admiring the intricate patterns that decorated the wheelhouse, as the camp came alive around her as the morning hour grew later. Her prince would surely still be in the wheelhouse, yet Sansa could not remember how to approach a situation like this.

A movement in the shadows of the wheelhouse drew her eyes away from the patterns, and Sansa instead found herself staring at an unusually gaunt looking man. His skin had a grey tinge to it, his face was clean shaven, and his eye seemed to have shrank back into his head. Suddenly frightened, Sansa began to back away from the wheelhouse; she did not want to linger in this man's presence.

But as she made to backtrack, she was suddenly stopped. Turning to face who she had collided with, Sansa sucked in a sharp breath.

"_You are shaking, girl_," the Hound rasped, his charred face twisted into a mocking smile. "_Do I frighten you so much_?"

The Hound _did _scare her, but Sansa knew she couldn't say that. She had been afraid of him from the moment she set eyes upon his scarred face. But he was Joffrey's sworn shield, and Sansa knew he would be a common presence in her life once they reached King's Landing.

Trying to free herself from his iron grip, the Hound simply laughed at her attempts.

Finally freeing herself, Lady was instantly between them, growling fiercely at the scarred man. The sound of the direwolf drew a vast amount of attention to Sansa. Tears came to her eyes as she attempted to ignore the stares she and Lady were receiving.

"Joffrey, go to her," came a voice. Sansa knew that voice; it was the Queen.

And just like that, her gallant prince was there.

"Fear not, sweet lady." Joffrey spoke gently to her, offering his hand to help her up. "Leave her be, Dog."

Obedient as ever, Sandor Clegane gave a small nod to his charge and retreated.

"It was not your sworn shield, my sweet prince. It was the other one," Sansa tried to explain, nodding in the direction of the sullen man standing beside the wheelhouse Joffrey and his mother had emerged from.

"Payne?" Joffery scoffed. His tone startled Sansa; the chivalry displayed by the prince moments ago was gone. "You're meant to be afraid of him, he's the King's Justice."

"Oh." Sansa's reply was nothing more than a whisper, she wasn't even sure Joffrey had heard her. Suddenly, the Queen Cersei was speaking:

"Joffrey, why don't you entertain dear Sansa today? I'm sure with her father and most of her household guard joining the King on his hunt she would be grateful for some company."

"Yes mother." Joffrey spoke formally to his mother, causing disappointment to settle upon Sansa; surely he should be happier to spend time with his betrothed.

Sansa certainly could not be any happier at the thought of spending a whole day with her handsome prince. She couldn't have planned the day more perfectly. Joffrey was just like all the heroes from her beloved songs; like Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, like Serwyn of the Mirror Shield. He had rescued her from Ilyn Payne and the Hound and now their romance would continue.

"What would you like to do?" Joffrey asked, snapping Sansa out of her thoughts.

"It makes no matter to me, sweet prince. I shall be happy to do whatever you wish."

Joffrey thought for a moment before answering: "Riding. We'll go riding."

Sansa grinned depsite herself. "I _love_ riding." That was a blatant lie, but she found herself not caring. If it would please Joffrey, it was worth it.

Their day together was truly wonderful, everything Sansa could have ever wished for. They explored the countryside, although Sansa suspected they weren't as far from the main camp as Joffrey would like her to think. His sword, Lion's Tooth, hung loosely from his belt. Joff had made a great show of pulling it from its scabbard and brandishing it a few times.

Together, Sansa and her golden prince explored the countryside, steadily making their way along the Trident. When the hour began to grow late, Sansa slowly worked up the courage to ask about venturing back to the camp. But before she got the chance to form the words, she heard noises coming from ahead.

"What's that noise?" Joffrey asked, having heard.

"I don't know, perhaps we should head back to the camp," she suggested timidly.

"No, I want to see who's there."

Joffrey urged his horse onwards, leaving Sansa no choice but to follow. The noises grew louder as they made their approach. When she finally reached the clearing, Sansa was relieved to find a boy and girl play fighting with wooden sticks. For the briefest of moments she had anticipated something altogether more dangerous. Sansa let out a relived breath.

Joffrey continued onwards, and for some reason had drawn Lion's Tooth from its sheath. Sansa's body tingled then with nerves. The sudden flash of live steel added an edge to the situation.

The boy was the elder of the two; his height and strength giving him a large advantage over the scrawny, muddy-faced girl in soiled leathers. They traded blows, before the boy began to press the attack, bringing his wooden weapon down hard against the girl's. A groan came from the younger participant as wood met with flesh.

Joffrey laughed at that, finally gaining the attention of the fighters. The boy was heavy set, his face red and breath ragged from the exertion. Upon seeing the Crown Prince, he dropped his weapon, wide eyed and open mouthed. The girl however, stared defiantly at Joffrey. A stare Sansa knew only too well:

"Arya!" she gasped, appalled at the sight before her.

"Go away," her little sister screamed, anger apparent. "Leave us alone. We're doing no harm."

As Arya spoke, Joffrey eyed the boy with contempt. _"And who are you, boy?"_

"Mycah," the elder boy muttered, gaze fixed on the grass. "M'lord."

"_He's the butcher's boy_," Sansa spoke up.

"_He's my friend_," Arya said tersely. "_You leave him alone_."

"_A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, is it?" _Joffrey swung down from his mount, Lion's Tooth still in hand, the steel glimmering in the day's light. _"Pick up your sword, butcher's boy," _he spat, green eyes glittering maliciously.

Sansa watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. _Why was her prince acting like this. The boy was doing no harm._

"Please m'lord," stuttered Mycah, "I ain't no knight, just a butcher's boy. My sword's just a stick, is all."

"Exactly," stated Joffrey. "Still, I shall do you no harm to be taugh a lesson about knowing your place." He lifted Lion's Tooth, and laid it's point on Mycah's cheek. Blood appeared where the sword had broken the skin. Mycah stood frozen.

"Sweet prince, the boy meant no insult. Must you do this?" asked Sansa, hoping to gain Joff's attention and diffuse the tense situation.

"What would you know about such situations?" Joffrey was mocking her, eyes afire with amusement at the entire situation. Sansa was stunned into silence.

"Stop it!" screamed Arya, picking up her own dropped stick.

_"I won't hurt him... much," _Prince Joffrey told Arya with a smirk on his face.

Arya pounced at him.

From there, it seemed to Sansa that everything happened at once. Arya swung her stick with all her might at Joffrey's head. Mycah, free of the point of Joffrey's blade, ran towards the trees as fast as his legs could carry him. The prince staggered, screaming in pain and holding a hand to the back of his head. Arya aimed another blow at him, but the stick collided with Lion's Tooth, breaking it into pieces. Joffrey began to advance upon Arya, a twisted smile distorting his handsome features, eyes alight. Arya scooped up a rock on the ground beside her and launched it at the prince. The rock missed its intended target, instead making contact with Joffrey's mount, which set off at a canter in the direction Mycah had run moments earlier. Joffrey was yelling at that point, bellowing obscenities and curses Sansa could not believe. Arya jumped unsteadily to her feet, afraid now, as Joffrey backed her up against a tree, Lion's Tooth in hand. Sansa could only watch on helplessly, tears almost blinding her.

Then, a grey blur flashed past her, lauching itself at the prince. Nymeria sank her teeth into Joffrey's sword arm, enticing shrieks of pain from him.

"_Get it off," _he screamed. _"Get it off!"_

"_Nymeria." _Arya ordered the direwolf to her side quite calmly. When Nymeria was sitting at her side, Arya moved forward, towards the cowering prince. _"She didn't hurt you...much."_ Picking up Lion's Tooth, Arya pointed it at Joffrey. Holding it there long enough for Joffrey to beg not to be hurt, Arya then turned round and launched the sword into the Trident. Joffrey moaned as the sword hit the water and sank into its depths. Arya ran towards her horse, Nymeria following closely behind her.

When she was sure they were gone, Sansa ran towards her fallen prince. She was strangely calm. Joffrey had shown a shocking side to himself today; Mycah had been doing no harm, he hadn't needed to act like he did. Yet he was still hurt, and Sansa's instinct was to help.

"_I'll ride to the holdfast and bring help for you." _Pausing momentarily, Sansa went to brush a few stray strands of golden curls out of Joff's eyes, hoping to bring out the chivalrous prince she had once known.

As her hand made soft contact with his forehead, Joffrey's eyes snapped up at her. Sansa recoiled at what she saw; vile contempt had filled the prince's eyes, a look of pure loathing colouring his pale face. _"Then go, and don't touch me," _he spat, hatred more pronounced with each word that left his mouth.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ _There we have it, chapter 6! A lot of dialogue was used from the book in this chapter, but I thought it helped to move things along. I have made a decision regarding Lady's fate, which will be included next chapter. I hope you all appreciate the decision I've made, it certainly was difficult!_

_Thanks for the patience regarding this chapter, I had revision and stuff to get done. Good news is chapter 7 won't be long in coming._

_I'm still getting emails saying people are following/favouriting this story, as well as some of you wonderful people adding my to your author alerts! Thanks so much, you are all brilliant._

_Until next time..._


	7. Chapter 7 - Robb III

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ I honestly did not expect to get this chapter written so quick! But, I am really happy with this chapter, so I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts!_

_Thanks again to my wonderful beta, __**harrylee94**__, you rock! _

_Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing, I'm just writing for fun. Lines taken from the book, A Game of Thrones, are highlighted in italics._

_Robb_

Chaos reigned in the days after the hunt. Their group had returned to find Arya Stark missing and Joffrey injured. Confusion surrounded the events which had taken place at the Trident, with Joffrey telling anyone who could hear that he had been set upon by Arya's direwolf at the order of her master.

Robb did not believe his older brother. Arya may be impulsive, but Robb had spent enough time with the young Stark to know that she was not malicious. Arya would not act so rashly without reason. And Joffrey. Joffrey seemed to be a Lannister through and through. Once bandaged, he had smugly declared that Arya was truly done for now. His arrogance about the entire situation left Robb's blood boiling.

The girl herself could not be found. Lord Eddard had sent men out to search for this youngest daughter the very moment he knew she was gone, and Robb had joined Lord Stark's men when he could, but his mother was unhappy at his involvement, for a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms was not supposed to "trudge around in the mud like and animal." Lord Eddard had even put aside his duties as Hand to lead searches himself, but to no avail.

Robb was worried about Arya. If she didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. Joffrey had spent his days complaining about his injuries to their mother, although Robb had seen him laughing with the Lannister guards often enough. Robb had also noticed his absence at their father's side; he had been certain that Joff would have been moaning about his ordeal almost constantly to the king, but his thoughts seemed to be ill-founded. Robert Baratheon had been in a foul mood since his eldest son had been brough back to the holdfast. And not because of Joffrey's injury, Robb suspected, but because he knew he would have to face Ned over their children's actions and subsequent punishments.

It had been three days since Arya had disappeared. They royal party had made themselves the uninvited and rather unwelcome guests of Lord Darry, who's castle was half a day's ride south of the Trident. Search parties were being lead on both sides of the great river, day and night.

It was early on the fourth day, and Robb found himself breaking his fast with his father in the chambers given over to him by Lord Darry. Robert Baratheon's deep, serious eyes analyzed his son.

"Tell me true, boy. Do you believe Joff's story?" The King spoke suddenly, and Robb was caught unaware by the nature of the question. Although, after a moment's comprehension, he suspected that was what his father wanted.

"No." If Robb's blunt answer surprised his father, he gave no indication of it.

The King sighed noisily before speaking again. "This wolf business, I don't like it one bit. I know fine well your mother will want retribution for Joff's injury. Can't say I want to give it to her."

"The direwolves protect their masters," Robb explained. "Nymeria wouldn't have gone for Joff unless Arya was in some kind of danger. As for Arya herself... She's wild, I'll admit but she's not spiteful. If Arya wanted to do anything to Joff, it would be a mischievous prank, not a hateful attack, Your Grace."

The King's eyes snapped up to meet those of his son, the formality of Robb's address taking him by surprise.

"I suppose you've spent enough time with her since we left Winterfell to know better than I. Or your mother, for that matter. Cersei won't be appeased though, I warn you now. It's best that girl's found sooner rather than later, to get this business over with."

Robb knew his father had the truth of it. His mother's wrath had been terrible when Joff had been carried into the holdfast.

"What of Sansa? Has anyone spoken to her about the incident?" asked Robb. It was common knowledge than Sansa Stark had been present at the Trident, for it was her that had riden back to get help.

"I've asked Ned to speak to her, but it seems she refuses to talk."

Robb nodded, sighing. "It can't be an easy situation for her, father. She either gets her sister into more trouble, or she upsets the royal family," Robb said, hoping his father would understand.

"If Joffrey's done wrong, he needs to be held accountable. He shall be King one day, this childish nonsense has to stop. All I want is the truth."

In all honesty Robb was surprised his father was thinking so clearly about the situation. Although when it came to House Stark, Robert Baratheon did tend to take things more seriously.

"Perhaps you could talk to her? The truth may be revealed easier if she doesn't have to talk to her father or myself."

Robb blinked in surprise. "If you think it's best, father." Whether Sansa would tell him anything was a mystery, but if it helped settle the matter before them it was worth a try. Robb's nerves increased when he realised this would be his first proper conversation with the eldest Stark daughter.

"When should I talk to h... " Robb was stopped mid-sentence by a loud knock at the door.

Ser Barristan entered the King's chambers, and relayed his news:

"The Stark girl has been found, Your Grace. She was brought back by Jory Cassel, one of the Stark men. It seems Lannister guards were on the gate, and your lady wife has been informed. They await you in the audience chamber."

"_Damn that woman_," the King grumbled, before remembering himself in front of his son. Robb was no fool when it came to his parents' marriage, but his father and mother still made attempts to remain civil where the other was concerned in front of their children. "It may be no use you talking to the Stark girl. Her voice may be heard sooner rather than later, willingly or not."

Father and son soon made their way down to the audience chamber, escorted by Barristan Selmy. When they entered the room, the tension was palpable. Arya stood with Jory in the centre of the room, with Joff and his mother standing to the left side of the seat which had remained vacant for the King. As his father sat himself in the seat, Robb took his place at the right side of the chair.

The silence stretched on for what seemed like days before Lord Eddard burst through the door. Robb smiled slightly as he made his way to his youngest daughter, sweeping her into his arms. His smile faltered when he heard the sound of Arya sobbing into her father's chest.

"_Are you hurt_?" Lord Eddard asked his youngest daughter.

"No, just hungry," Arya replied, sniffing.

"We'll remedy that soon enough." The Hand of the King smiled reassuringly at Arya, standing up and placing his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. His gaze turned to Robert. "What is the meaning of this? _Why was I not told my daughter had been found_?"

Robb turned to look at this mother as Cersei Lannister made her voice heard. "How dare you speak to the King in such a manner."

"Silence woman," snapped Robert, before looking up at his friend. "I'm sorry it happened like this Ned. My wife thought it best to bring the child here first. I arrived moments before you."

"Joff's already told us his version of events. Arya, I want to hear what you have to say. Tell me true, it is a great offence to lie to a King." The King spoke gently to Arya, or as gently as a man the size of Robert Baratheon could.

Arya's tale was very different to the version Joffrey had been relaying for days now. Arya faltered not once, and even ventured to far as to make eye contact with the King and Queen, as well as throwing a couple of glares at Joffrey. When Arya's eyes turned to Robb, he gave her an encouraging smile.

Renly Baratheon diffused the tension slightly when he began to chuckle as Arya's tale reached the point of her throwing Joffrey's sword into the Trident. His elder brother quickly ordered him out of the room, and Renly went gladly, still laughing.

As Arya's story came to an end, Robb noticed that his father was looking at her thoughtfully.

"That's not what happened," whined Joffrey noisily. "I've told you what really happened."

"Yes, I imagine most present in this room have heard your version through word of mouth. But, I want you to tell the tale again. I want you to look these people in the eye, knowing you'll be their King one day, and tell the truth. Do you hear me Joffrey? All I want from you is the truth." The room was silent as the King spoke to his eldest son. Robb could tell by the looks on most faces that their King had surprised them with his words.

Robb felt only pride.

As Joffrey stepped forwards into the centre of attention, Robb knew instantly that it was going to be the same story he's been spouting ever since the incident. After the blond prince had finished, Robert Baratheon sighed as Joffrey finished his very different tale; though the tale was no different than any other time he had told it, the flare had gone, and his eyes lingered on the floor, as though they were heavy; weighed down by the lies behind them.

"What am I to make of this? _He says one thing, she says another_." The King looked around the room, as if the solution would magically come to him.

It was then Lord Stark spoke up. "They were not the only two present, Your Grace. _Sansa, come here. Tell us what happened_."

Sansa made her way forward timidly. Robb had not even noticed her enter the room. Her red hair was plaited in a simple Northern style, opposed to the more intricate Southern fashions he had grown accustomed to seeing sport in the weeks since they had left Winterfell. Sansa suited the modest Northern style, he thought.

"I... I don't know, I can't remember," Sansa muttered, looking from Joff to Arya. "Everything happened so fast, I..."

"Liar!" Arya screamed as she charged at her sister. "_Liar, liar, liar, liar_."

Sansa had been knocked to the ground. Robb surged forward before he could stop himself. Lord Stark had also moved quickly to pull Arya away from her elder sister. Robb bend down to check on Sansa.

"Are you alright? he asked softly, offering Sansa his hand.

Sansa Stark accepted his offered hand shakily. She nodded absent mindly, her eyes fixed on Arya. Remembering herself quickly, she flattened her skirts and turned to face Robb. She offered him a small smile. "Yes, my lord, thank you."

"You see, the girl's as wild as her beast," Robb heard his mother say. "_Robert, I want her punished_."

"Seven hells, Cersei, she's a child. Children fight. Ned, you discipline your daughter, and I shall do the same with my son."

"So you care not of the scars Joff will carry for the rest of his life?" the Queen asked boldly.

King Robert stilled, before turning to face his eldest son. "Everyone bears scars, each one a lesson to be learned from."

Robert Baratheon made to exit the audience chambers before his wife spoke again. "And what of the direwolf beast that savaged your son?"

"Damn, I had forgotten about the wolf," Robert said irritably.

Robb noticed Arya tense at the mention of Nymeria. Jory Cassel spoke up quickly, "There was no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace."

King Robert did not look unhappy at this news. "_No? So be it_."

"_A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin_!" commanded the Queen, voice raised.

"_A costly pelt. I want no part of this. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold_," the King argued, voice growing in anger. "The beast will be long gone by now. There is no wolf, let that be the end of it."

"We have a wolf." Joffrey spoke quietly, but triumph glittered in his green eyes.

Silence filled the room, as everyone comprehended the words of the Crown Prince. Robb felt his stomach drop as the the implications of his brother's statement dawned on him, but the Queen was the first to react:

"Ser Ilyn, you heard your prince. Kill the beast."

A shout went up from Eddard Stark: "You cannot allow this, Your Grace."

Robb watched as his father looked at his oldest friends with flat, dead eyes. "I'm sorry Ned, truly. If I could stop this, I would. Cersei will have the direwolf killed one way or another. Better to have it done quickly."

It was then Sansa understood. Robb felt her fall beside him. He managed to grab her arm before she hit the floor, quickly wrapping his other arm around her waist. Sansa's body was racked with sobs. "No, no, please. Lady's a good wolf, she won't do any harm. I'll make sure she won't. Please. _Please._"

"Lady wasn't there," roared Arya in a fury. "You leave her alone."

"Robert, please, for the love you bear me, and the love you bore my sister. Please. Stop this."

The King glanced at his stoic faced wife, a look of defeat on his face and shook his head. "I'm sorry Ned," was all King Robert Baratheon had to say. Robb had never seen his father look so conflicted. He turned to face his wife. "_Damn you, Cersei_," he said with loathing.

Eddard Stark steeled himself in front of the King. "Do it yourself then Robert. If you don't have the courage to stop the act, have the courage to carry the act out."

Robb looked on as his father simply walked out of the hall with heavy steps. Sansa continued to sob as he held her in his arms. Robb doubted she even knew who was holding her up.

"Where is the beast?" demanded his mother. Beside her, Joffrey looked on, a smirk defecating his lips. Robb had never hated his brother more. He had no doubt his brother could be a mean spirited individual, but he had never thought Joffrey so cruel as to inflict this kind of pain on the girl who would be his wife. Sansa deserved better.

It was Barristan Selmy who answered his Queen, albeit reluctantly. "Chained up in the yard, Your Grace."

"Send for Ser Ilyn," Robb heard his mother command, her voice never once faltering.

"No." Eddard Stark spoke sharply, staring defiantly at the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. "_Jory, take the girls back to their rooms and bring me Ice. If it must be done, I will do it_."

Sansa stilled in Robb's embrace. He could not see her face, but Lord Eddard swallowed thickly as he met his daughter's eyes.

"Why would you do such a thing, Stark?" Cersei Lannister asked suspiciously.

"Lady is of the North. She deserves more than a butcher."

Sansa wailed as she was taken from the room, Arya shouted along with her. Sansa was led away by Jory Cassel, although Robb let her go only reluctantly. His mother and Joffrey had slipped quietly from the room, as the Starks grief echoed through the castle's halls. Finding himself on his own, Robb let his feet carry him from the audience chamber and out into the yard, where he found Eddard Stark sitting beside Lady, stroking her thick grey fur in the cold morning air.

Not knowing why, Robb sat down on the other side of Lady. He had not seen much of Sansa's direwolf during their travels, but the wolf accepted his presence with ease. Robb's hand travelled up to the direwolf's head, scratching gently behind her ears.

"Sansa picked well," commented Lord Stark, the man his father referred to so fondly as Ned. "The name Lady suits her perfectly."

"It does, my lord," replied Robb.

"You are truly your fathers son. You referring to me as 'my lord' leaves me as uneasy as it does with your father. I suspect in a different time, Robert would have joined me out here as you have done. His courage has faltered, I fear. At least, some of it. Call me Ned, as your father does."

The two sat in silence, Robb taking in this new development of his relationship with Lord Stark, all the while continuing to adorn Lady with loving attention. Ned and his father had been best friends since childhood, and Robb had grown up listening to his father's stories about their adventures together. To have a man like Eddard Stark compare him so glowingly to his father made Robb swell with pride.

"Sansa did pick well," said Robb finally. "Lady is a beautiful direwolf."

"She's the prettiest of the litter we found, the most gentle, and the most loving," said Ned quietly. "She suited Sansa in a way I could never explain."

It was then Jory brought Ice. "You may go, Robb. You need not witness this."

"No, I'll stay," Robb found himself replying, although he could already feel a lump forming in this throat.

When it was done, Ned spoke to his captain. "Jory, pick four of your best men. They will take the body north and have Lady buried at Winterfell. Cersei Lannister will not have this skin."

Jory departed to pick his men, while Robb walked with Ned. "Why is it you did not allow Ser Ilyn to do as my mother commanded?" Robb asked, allowing the question that had been gnawing away at his thoughts to be voiced.

"The Starks have always believed that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Although I did not sentence Lady to her fate, Cersei Lannister would never have the decency to look either person or animal in the eye before condeming them to death," Lord Eddard Stark explained carefully, before pausing. "I'm sorry, young prince. I should not speak of your mother in such a way. My apologies."

Robb made no reply, knowing there was some truth in what the Hand had said. His mother had been unaffected by Sansa's grief as she sentenced Lady to death. Even his father hadn't stopped the atrocity.

The silence that surrounded the pair was crushed when Sandor Clegane and his men galloped back into the courtyard. Robb saw that the Hound had a heavy shape slung over the back of his huge, black destrier.

"_No sign of your daughter, Hand," _the Hound rasped. _"_But we've got her little pet." He shoved the shape unceremoniously from his horse, where it landed with a thud.

Robb's heart hammered in his chest as Lord Stark's hand went to pull back the cloak, fearing the familiar sight of grey fur would be revealed beneath. When the cloak was flung back, it was not Nymeria found, but Robb did not breathe a sigh of relief. It was the butcher's boy, Mycah, Robb recalled, covered in dry blood.

"_You rode him down?_" Ned Stark asked the Hound, anger in his voice.

_"He ran,"_ the Hound replied, before laughing. _"But not very fast."_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ I hope you all enjoyed that, thanks for reading._

_Reviews would be loved, particularly for this chapter, because I'm curious to see how you liked the interactions etc. I decided to include._

_Thanks for the reviews/favourites/follows I got for the last chapter._

_All the best until next time!_


	8. Chapter 8 - Sansa III

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Hello! Sorry for the delay, this chapter proved difficult to write. However, the more I wrote the easier it became. Thanks for your patience!_

_As always, thanks to _**HarryLee94 **_you rock!_

_Enjoy!_

_Sansa_

The people of King's Landing parted to allow their King to make his way through the city. Children pushed their way to the front of the crowds in an attempt to capture a glimpse of King Robert Baratheon, and men and women alike bowed their heads as he trotted past, flanked by Ser Meryn and Ser Barristan. The capital was elated to have its King back.

Sansa noticed none of this though. Her red eyes remained downcast, unseeing. It was a struggle not to cry, although she had done so much of it since the death of her beloved Lady. The pain of losing her most trusted companion had not lessened as time passed. Every morning Sansa woke up, for the briefest of moments believing that it had all been a terrible nightmare.

But it had not. Her once beloved prince had hurt her in the cruelest of ways, and had done so happily. Mere days before, Sansa Stark had everything she could possibly want. Now all she prayed for was an end to her betrothal to Joffrey, and a return to Winterfell.

King Robert rode through the streets of King's Landing at the head of the column, with Sansa's father trotting wearily beside him, as the Hand of the King should. Sansa knew his relationship with the King had been strained since Lady had been killed, but despite herself, hoped they would be able to set it aside.

Sansa bore no ill thoughts towards the King, even if she wanted to; it was the Queen and her _sweet prince_ she hated. Arya had been right about the Crown Prince, and Sansa could not understand why she hadn't seen it before.

The now mutual hatred of Joffrey had helped Sansa's relationship with her younger sister. Unwilling to face the possibility of seeing Joffrey at any point during the remainder of their journey, Sansa had spent her days within the wheelhouse. Much to her surprise, Arya had taken to sitting with her.

Mycah's death had broken Arya, when added to the disappearance of Nymeria. Sansa had tried to coax the truth out of her sister, but to no avail. In the days after Lady's death, Sansa and Arya had sat in silence, each of the verge of talking but never quite managing it. It was only when their father was able to visit them that the sister's had truly been brought together.

Eddard Stark had held his daughters as their grief over Mycah and Lady became too much to bare. The girls had sobbed until no more tears were left to shed, and the next morning had been better than the others. Sansa knew nothing would ever replace her lost direwolf, but she also knew that Joffrey Baratheon would never again see how much pain his actions regarding Lady had inflicted upon her.

The remaining days of their journey to King's Landing had blurred together as both Stark's had settled into an amicable relationship. Both were careful never to mention the events at the Trident or what had followed, but Arya regaled her elder sister with tales of the days she had spent with Prince Robb and of the people she had met with the young royal.

"King Robert even rode with us one day," Arya had explained excitedly. "He told me and Robb stories from his childhood with father."

Sansa smiled at that. Ned Stark had shared a few stories with his own children about his childhood at the Eeyrie with Robert Baratheon in the care of Lord Jon Arryn. His tales usually involved Robert causing trouble, and he would only be dragged into the chaos by his friend. But father always reminisced about his childhood experiences with Robert with a fond smile on his face, telling his children all they needed to know.

_Jon and Robb could have such a friendship, _Sansa mused to herself. They had certainly formed a bond during the young prince's time at Winterfell, from all Arya said. Sansa could only regret how little time she spent with her siblings and the coal haired prince during his stay at Winterfell. She now realised the time spent with Joffrey was time wasted.

"Robb introduced me to _everyone,_" continued Arya.

Sansa laughed. "Everyone?"

"Everyone," Arya insisted, before launching into a great speech chronicling her introduction to the various camp followers, soldiers and banner bearers Prince Robb had known and interacted with. Sansa learned that Arya had even been introduced to Robb's uncle Renly.

"I bet Prince Joffrey's never been seen talking to the people," Sansa frowned. "And he's the heir to the Iron Throne."

"Joffrey's an evil little worm," Arya stated simply. "And stop calling him Prince Joffrey, especially if it's just me and you. Same with Robb, he doesn't care about titles. You don't have to be a lady _all_ the time."

Sansa smiled softly. "So, what else do you and Pri..." she stopped herself, before starting again. "What else do you and Robb talk about?"

"Anything really," Arya replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "He said his father's been in good spirits since Father became Hand of the King. He also told me the King says I'm just like Aunt Lyanna." Arya grinned proudly at the last piece of information.

"I imagine you are." Ned Stark rarely spoke of his sister, who had once been betrothed to Robert Baratheon before he became King. When she was taken by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, he had fought a war to save her. From all Sansa and her siblings had been told, Lyanna had been a free spirit. A true she-wolf of the North.

If she was honest with herself, Sansa was rather jealous of this comparison King Robert had made. Sansa wished she was more of a wolf, like Arya and her aunt. All Sansa could do was cry when Lady had been sentenced to her fate, while Arya had grown angry and shouted fierce-some things at Joffrey and the Queen.

Even now, arriving in King's Landing, Sansa kept her gaze down and remained silent as Arya hooted and shouted at the people she passed. King Robert, eager to put the events of the Trident behind them all, had declared that Joffrey and Sansa would ride into the city side by side, to show the capital that the Crown Prince had found his future Queen. The suggestion made Sansa feel ill, but she went along with it nevertheless.

Joffrey rode to her right, golden hair shining in the sun. Sansa's heart would have once fluttered at the sight, but now she felt nothing but hatred.

A laugh sounded behind her, and Sansa found herself turning her head to find its source. Only the King and his Hand rode before them, the Crown Prince and his betrothed given the place of great importance immediately behind the King; a sign to the people of how the Baratheon reign would continue when King Robert died.

Riding immediately behind Sansa and Joffrey was Prince Robb, from who the laughter had come. He was being escorted by Ser Arys, who was chuckling along with his Prince. Sansa found herself smiling, not quite sure why.

Following Prince Robb came Arya, who had refused to enter King's Landing in the wheelhouse that was currently housing Queen Cersei and her youngest children, Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella. Sansa wondered what would have happened had she refused to ride with Joffrey. _No one would listen, not to the meek, always polite Sansa Stark, _she thought to herself ruefully. For her insolence, as Septa Mordane named it, Arya had been allowed to ride into the city beside the King's own brother, Lord Renly Baratheon. Renly waved and gave easy smiles to the people of the capital, laughing as Arya grew louder and louder in her excitement.

Joffrey had yet to raise his hand in greeting to a single person as he rode past, his green eyes remaining fixed on the Red Keep ahead of them. Now aware of how her sister was acting, Sansa timidly raised her right hand, waving nervously at all those of had lined the streets to greet their returning King. A grin came to her pretty face as many noticed her and waved back, eager to gain the attention of their future Queen. Beside her, Joffrey remained unmoving.

A young girl had somehow managed to push her way to the front of the crowd, and held up a yellow flower for Prince Joffrey to take. Joffrey spared her a look of contempt before spurring his horse onwards, leaving Sansa behind. Murmers and a few shouts went up from those who had seen this rejection. But before Sansa could act, Prince Robb was kneeling in front of the girl. She was blonde haired, her blue eyes swimming with tears.

"What's your name, sweetling?" Sansa heard Robb ask.

The girl sniffed, wiping away her tears and giving the young prince a dazzling smile. "Eve."

Robb grinned broadly at Eve. "A pretty name for a pretty girl, don't you think Lady Sansa?"

Sansa looked down at the little girl, giving her own smile. "Oh yes. It seems you have gained an admirer Eve. A Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, how lucky you are!"

Eve blushed and giggled as Robb gave her a small kiss on the cheek, before unclipping a brooch from his chest. "A token of my love, fair lady." Upon a closer look, Sansa saw the brooch Robb had handed to Eve was a silver stag, the sigil of House Baratheon. It must cost a fortune.

"Thank you, m'lord," Eve stated with as much grace as a girl of her young age could.

Robb grinned. "It has been an honour, my lady," he said, bowing at Eve. As he went to turn to mount his horse, Eve tugged at his sleeve. Bending down once again, Eve beckoned the Prince to come closer. Robb obliged and Eve whispered something into his ear. Laughing, Robb nodded and took the flower from the girl's small hand.

Sansa expected him to move towards his own horse, but was surprised when he arrived at hers. "For you, my lady. Eve wishes me to tell you that you are very beautiful."

Sansa took the flower, dismounting from her own horse with grace. "Thank you Eve, you're too kind." After kissing Eve on her other cheek, Sansa watched as the girl's mother took her by the hand, muttering thanks to herself and Prince Robb.

"Do you require help, my lady?" Prince Robb asked her as she moved to mount her mare.

"If you don't mind, my lord," Sansa replied politely.

"Please, call me Robb. Your sister does," the Prince said with an easy smile. Sansa was shocked at how much he resembled in father in that moment. Robert Baratheon was in good shape for his age, from training with this sons in the yard, Sansa had long suspected. The resemblance between Robb and his father was startling, just as Jon's resemblance to their father was.

Taking care with the flower Eve had given her, Sansa climbed back onto her horse. Looking up, Sansa found herself looking at her father and King Robert, who had stopped to watch the scene with Eve unfold. Both men were looking at Sansa with smiles on their faces.

"You did well Sansa," her father praised.

"Very well," the King nodded. "As did you, my boy," King Robert continued as Robb rode up behind Sansa, Ser Arys at his heels.

Robb and Sansa looked at each other and smiled.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Hope you all enjoyed. Feel free to leave your thoughts in review form! _

_PS, the Red Wedding huh? I'm devastated. I love Robb and Richard Madden entirely too much. So, this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Richard Madden for bringing a great character to life for us all. All the best to him for his future career._

_Also, Michelle Fairley absolutely KILLED that scene. Bravo!_

_Thanks for reading. See you all next time!_


	9. Chapter 9 - Robb IV

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Chapter 9 is here._

_Many thanks to my awesome beta, __**HarryLee94**__ I couldn't do this all without you!_

_Thanks, as always, for the ongoing faves/follows/reviews. They mean everything, and keep m so motivated to get updates out as quick as possible!_

_Enjoy!_

_Robb_

They had been four days returned when Arya informed Robb that Sansa wished to speak to him. As far as Robb could tell, both Starks had settled into life in King's Landing fairly smoothly. It was a different way of life, but both girls knew to try and make the most out of their situation, even if they would rather be back in Winterfell with their brothers and mother.

Arya had spent her days exploring the city and Red Keep. It seemed as though there was no situation Arya Stark could not escape if she so wished; the girl seemed to have free run of the castle. Robb pitied her Septa, who undoubtedly had her hands full with Arya. The young prince continued to see much of her, the younger Stark always managing to find a way to watch as he trained in the yard, or succeeding in making her way to his chamber as day turned to night. Arya was missing her brothers, Robb knew, but he was more than happy to fill that void for her.

Sansa, however, seemed content enough to spend her days with Septa Mordane. Robb suspected it was more of an attempt to remain as far from Joffrey as possible, rather than being uninterested in seeing King's Landing. Joffrey himself had made no attempt to visit his bethrothed, a fact that pleased Robb as much as it did Sansa.

The kindness shown by Sansa to Eve, the young girl they had encountered as they made their way to the Red Keep upon their return to King's Landing, proved beyond any doubt that Sansa Stark deserved better than Joffrey. But only the King could dissolve a betrothal, and it did not seem as though Robert Baratheon had noticed the extent of the mismatch.

Arya walked with Robb, the pair making their way to the Tower of the Hand, chatting amicably about nothing particular as they went.

"Do you enjoy the city?" Robb asked as they climbed the steps which would lead them to the chambers Arya and Sansa shared within the Tower of the Hand.

Arya shrugged. "It's not Winterfell, but I find things to do."

"Thing you aren't meant to do, I'd wager," Robb chuckled. Arya had already made friends with a couple of the boys down in the kitchens. They were of a similar age, and Arya could already persuade them to hand over any spare food.

"Maybe," was the only response Arya gave.

After climbing the last of the steps in a comfortable silence, Arya spoke up again. "I wish I got to see more of you though. Some days are really boring."

"I'm sorry Arya, but I'm expected to do certain things now we're back in King's Landing. I need to train. But, my father usually joins me for a training session or two through the week. Perhaps I could arrange for you to officially come and watch, rather than having you stand in the shadows so you don't get sent back to Septa Mordane." Robb turned his head to see how Arya had taken his idea. The young girl was grinning broadly at him.

"Really?"

"If you wish it. I'm sure our fathers can arrange something," Robb nodded. "My father seems to have a soft spot for you anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Arya continued to grin as they approached the thick wooden door that would admit them entry to Arya and Sansa's living quarters. Lord Stark had his own bedroom and solar on the higher levels of the Tower, but Sansa and Arya lacked no space.

The pair walked through the door, Robb commanding Ser Boros to remain outside. The large Kingsguard member had kept a respectful distance as Robb and Arya had walked, but Robb did not want him anywhere in the room as he spoke to Sansa.

The woman in question was sitting in the solar when they entered. Evidently, her lessons for the day had ended as Septa Mordane was nowhere to be seen.

Sansa looked from the book she had been reading. "My lord," she said softly, inclining her head in Robb's direction.

"I've told you before my lady, you need not call me by all these titles. Robb will suffice." Robb watched as a blush crept onto Sansa's pretty face.

"My apologies... Robb."

"I'll leave you two alone while Sansa talks to you. I've got to practice my Needle work anyway," Arya said casually.

Both Robb and Sansa turned towards Arya then, surprise clear on their faces. Robb made a mental note to look into Arya's 'needle work' a bit more. Things were rarely straightforward with the younger Stark.

When Arya had left the solar, Sansa turned to face Robb in a shy manner. "Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?"

The young prince smiled, taking a seat across from where the auburn haired Stark had been sitting moments before. "A drink would be much appreciated, thank you."

Sansa poured the cups herself, setting Robb's down in front of him. Taking a sip of the honeyed wine, Robb savoured it's sweet flavour. He was no stranger to ale or wine, but the honeyed wine was pleasant.

"I know it's not proper for me to request to see you privately," Sansa began, obviously nervous, "but I just wanted to thank you properly."

Robb had wondered what the reason was for Sansa's request, but hadn't thought of this explanation. "Thank me? For what?"

"For what you did at Lord Darry's castle. When... When Lady was..."

Robb broke in quickly, in an attempt to save Sansa from saying the words that would hurt her so deeply. "There's no need to thank me, Sansa. I wish I hadn't had to act in such a manner but in the circumstances I can't imagine having done anything else."

"Father told me you sat with Lady at the end. I'm glad she wasn't alone," Sansa whispered, blue eyes swimming with tears.

The sight of tears made Robb feel slightly uncomfortable; he wasn't used to having to comfort a weeping woman, and certainly not when it was only the two of them in the room. Without thinking, he moved to sit beside Sansa, taking her hand in his own. "You're braver than you give yourself credit for, Sansa. Don't let Joffrey beat you in this. Hold your head high when you see him, and show him the true strength of the direwolf."

Sansa sniffed and lifted her head, blue eyes meeting blue. She smiled weakly. "You two couldn't be more different, you know."

Robb returned her smile. "Are you looking forward to your father's tourney?" he asked, hoping to rid Sansa's eyes of tears with a change of topic. His plan seemed to work; Sansa's face immediately lit up at the mention of the tourney.

"Oh yes! Father says he'll even take me and Arya himself. And the feast after the tourney promises to be magnificent," she replied excitedly. "Will you enter anything?"

"No, my mother won't allow it. She fears for my safety. I shall join my father to watch the tourney."

"Will Joffrey be there?" Sansa asked quietly.

Robb's smile faltered. "Yes, I think so. At least, he _should _be. Father won't be happy if he isn't. But don't dwell on Joffrey. You're obviously looking forward to the tourney; don't allow the thought of Joffrey to ruin it for you."

Sansa sat a little higher, and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "I won't."

"Good. Joffrey may be my brother, but you deserve better. Truly," Robb heard himself say. His mother would be furious if she heard him speak about his brother like this, but that didn't change the fact that what he said was true.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, Robb's hand still holding Sansa's protectively, all the while thinking how perfectly Sansa's hand fit into his own.

"Joffrey lied to me about his sword and lance skills, didn't he?" Sansa asked quietly, eyes looking at their joined hands.

"Yes, he did," Robb sighed. "Not that I can imagine you care now, but I thought I'd let you keep that little memory of Joff. How did you know?"

"His hand are far too soft. Yours are rough and calloused from your training... I like it," Sansa replied with a small smile.

Robb smirked. "Joff's never liked getting his hands dirty. He'll give an order to do something, but wouldn't do anything himself. I've said to Arya about coming to watch some training. If you would be interested I'm sure you could come too?" Robb offered, hurriedly choking out the last sentence, before his courage could desert him. "It would only be a hint at what you will see at the tourney but you are more than welcome. The training might even be busier than usual with knights coming from all over the country to participate."

Sansa's small smile transformed into an eager grin at Robb's suggestion. "Truly? I'd like to watch your training very much."

"I'll put the idea to my father, not that he shall have a problem with it," Robb said happily.

"Wonderful," Sansa said as Arya came running down the steps that led to the girls bed chambers. Her eyes immediately settled on Robb and Sansa's joined hands, a smirk forming on her face.

"I thought you would be gone by now, Robb," Arya said, ever to the point.

Clearing his throat, the Baratheon prince got to his feet. "I was just departing actually Arya. I must see my father about you both watching a training session in the yard before the tourney begins."

"Both of us?" Arya asked, eyes darting from Robb to Sansa. "Why do you want to go watch?" she questioned her older sister.

"Why do you?" Sansa retorted.

"Because I like swords and fighting," Arya said matter of factly.

"I'll take my leave, and allow you two to continue your... discussion," Robb said, knowing how the Stark siblings could argue.

"Goodbye Robb," said Sansa warmly, giving him one last smile.

"Bye Robb," Arya practically shouted.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Hope you all enjoyed that!_

_If you did, or if you didn't, please leave a review. I love hearing everyone's thoughts on how the fic is going. I write for you guys!_

_Chapter 10, coming up soon!_


	10. Chapter 10 - Arya I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Chapter 11 introduces a new POV, and I hope I've written the character well._

_As always, thanks so much to __**HarryLee94**__ for your awesome beta'ing skills and just being all around cool!_

_Without further ado, here is chapter 11! Enjoy!_

_Arya_

Arya woke at an early hour, her excitement palpable. Today was the day she would watch Robb train in the yard, and she had already made plans to show the prince her own sword skills.

As she opened her trunk and dug out Needle, the small sword her brother Jon had given her before she left Winterfell, Arya's thoughts wandered to her home. She wondered how Bran's recovery was going, how tall Rickon had grown, how Jon was adjusting to his role as Lord of Winterfell while father remained in King's Landing. Arya thought of her mother, so consumed by grief the last time she had seen her. A raven had found them on the journey South telling them of Bran's awakening, which gave Arya the hope that Catelyn Stark had managed to recover from Bran's accident as well. Arya and Sansa had hugged when they had heard, and that was even before they both hated Joffrey. She thought of Old Nan, who's stories she loved so much, of Hodor and Mikken, of old Ser Rodrik and wise Maester Luwin. Arya missed her home more than she could ever say, but she was settling into life in King's Landing better than she expected.

That was largely due to Robb, she knew. The Baratheon prince was nothing like his idiot older brother, in personality or appearance. She had spent more time with Robb than she had Septa Mordane, and no matter how hard her Septa tried to keep her focused on her lessons, Arya would always manage to escape them somehow.

But today she was actually _allowed_ to miss her lessons. King Robert had spoken to her father and asked if she and Sansa would like the opportunity to see the King and Prince train with their men. Father had been wary at first, but when it was made clear that Joffrey would not be the prince training, he had consented.

Arya wasn't surprised her father had allowed them to go watch. After all, he had gone so far as to hire a dance master for Arya when he had discovered Needle amongst her things. Syrio Forel had been the first sword of Braavos, and knew his art. They had been training for two weeks, and already Arya could feel differences. She was faster than she had been, and stronger, much stronger.

_Quiet as a shadow._

_Light as a feather._

_Calm as still water._

_Quick as a snake._

_Swift as a deer._

These were only some of the things Syrio Forel had taught her. But it would be enough, Arya knew. Enough to beat a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Robb would take it all in his stride, laughing as Arya hit him, fighting back fiercely, fighting fairly. Arya had gone over it all in her head many times since Ned Stark had confirmed that she and Sansa would be allowed to go watch in the yard.

Needle was much lighter than the sword Syrio made her practice with, but Arya would take Needle with her this day. _Stick them with the pointy end,_ Jon had said the day he presented Arya with her gift. She wouldn't do that to Robb, but she would show them all just how capable she was of it. She even hoped Joffrey would be there to see her skill.

Arya spent the next two hours practicing vigorously, before she judged it was time to break her fast. Sansa was dressed and sat in the solar when Arya came down the steps.

The sight of her elder sister made Arya remember the previous week when she had come running down the steps to find Robb and Sansa sitting together, hands intertwined. The memory brought a smile to the young Starks face. Robb would be much better for Sansa, instead of that stupid Joffrey.

"Good morning, Ayra," Sansa greeted her younger sister. She was dressed in a green silk dress, which served wonderfully in bringing out her auburn locks.

"Morning," Arya replied, taking a seat at the table. She had dressed in her usual breeches and tunic for the day ahead. If Sansa disapproved, she gave no indication. "Where's Septa Mordane?"

"Father told her she would not be needed today, since we're both going down to the training yard. Jory and some other household guards are to escort us," Sansa explained to her sister.

For the most part, Arya and Sansa broke their fast in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Arya supposed her sister was thinking about the upcoming tourney to be held in honour of their father's appointment as Hand of the King. Father had not been pleased with this plan, but was given no choice in going along with it. There would be a day of jousting, then a feast before a second day of events, including an archery competition and a melee. Sansa was thrilled at the idea of seeing all the knights that would come to the city to compete, but Arya would train with Syrio, the tourney stirring no interest in her.

Before long, Jory entered their solar, stating it was time to make their way to the yard, if they wanted to watch the training from start to finish. Arya ran back to her sleeping chamber to get Needle. There was no way to carry it down to the yard without Jory seeing, so she determined that telling the truth would be the best way forward.

As she had known he would, Jory had asked her about Needle and why she felt the need to take it with her, but when Arya explained what she hoped to do, Jory only laughed. Sansa, on the other hand, was outraged:

"Arya, how can you plan to fight with a Prince," she fumed. "You're going to ruin everything."

"No I'm not," Arya argued back. "Robb won't care, he'll just laugh."

Sansa scoffed in reply and refused to talk to her for the remainder of their journey to the training yard. Arya spotted Robb immediately, laughing with the squires as the knights practiced drills. King Robert stood beside his second son, watching the men carefully.

Robert Baratheon was a great warrior, Arya knew. When the Stark siblings had found out that the great Robert Baratheon would be coming to Winterfell, Arya and her brothers had coherced their father into telling one of their favourite stories; the story of Robert Baratheon and his warhammer. Even Sansa had been listening intently by the end of it. The King could swing his warhammer with one hand, while Ned Stark struggled to pick it up with two, and Arya hoped the King would fight with his warhammer today.

Jory and the Winterfell men had been invited to join the training, so Arya and Sansa were left to sit in the stands and watch as the men continued their drills.

Ser Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother, fought fiercely, as did Ser Arys Oakheart. Ser Barristan Selmy stood with the King, commenting on those training. The yard was loud today; many who had arrived at the city in preparation for the Hand's tournament had also made the effort to attend today. Whether it was to size up the competition or hone their own skills Arya could not say.

"Jon and Bran would love all this," Sansa said, raising her voice to be heard over the clammer of steel meeting steel.

Arya nodded in reply. "They would," she said sadly, thinking of Bran. Her brother would never walk again, the parchment had read, and all her little brother's dreams of being a great knight had been destroyed.

Arya's grey eyes remained fixed on the knights in the training yard, watching closely as they fought furiously. She could not say how long it was before the King himself called an end to the drills and the squires ran forward to help the knights out of some of their armour.

Before long Robb and the squires had taken to the field. The squires varied in ages, but it did not matter; Robb was able to best them all. The Prince was a beautiful fighter to watch, his timing was impeccable, his blows coming hard and fast. Blunted swords were used to train with, but bruises would still be left in the morning. The squires had clearly been training with Robb long enough not to worry about landing a hit on the Prince. Robb took any blows in his stride, using it as fuel to work harder; sweat was running down his face as the first round of drills were called to an end.

Realising she had been so consumed with watching Robb and the squires fight that she had ignored Sansa, Arya turned to look at her sister. She need not have worried, Sansa was watching Robb with a smile on her face.

"He's a very good fighter, isn't he?" Sansa gushed.

Ayra could only laugh. "He is, although he could do with not raising his sword hand so soon when he intends to strike. It gives his intentions away."

"What would you know about sword skills?" Sansa asked pointedly.

"More than you," retorted Arya without missing a beat. "I'm going down to the yard, I'm bored of sitting here watching. Are you coming?"

Sansa looked unsure. She thought for a moment before giving her answer: "No, I'll remain here to watch."

"Suit yourself," Arya said with a shrug of her shoulders. Needle in her hand, Arya made her way into the training yard. Robb was sharing a jest with his father when Arya joined them.

"Enjoying the show Arya?" the Prince asked, brushing a mop of his jet-black hair out of his eyes.

"It's brilliant," grinned Arya. "But you need to work on a few things."

"Oh yes, like what?" teased Robb, assuming she was joking.

"You raise your sword arm much too soon when you intend to strike. More than once you were forced to hold back, yet you kept your arm up, allowing your opponent to anticipate your strike," Arya stated, rather simply.

Robb said nothing, but King Robert let out a great laugh. "This one's got sharp eyes, my boy. Selmy commented on the exact same thing as we watched you practice." The King's eyes then fell on Needle, clutched tightly in Arya's right hand. "And what's this? Do you fancy a fight, girl?"

"Yes, I do," Arya answered immediately. "Against Robb."

Robb grinned as the King laughed again. Ser Arys had made his way over to the three of them, and had heard the last of Arya's words. "Lady Stark wishes to fight you my Prince?"

"It seems so," smiled Robb. "I see no problem with it. Father, do you?"

"Not at all, Robb. If this one is truly Lyanna's niece, I suspect she'll give you a good fight," the King said happily. "You can have a round of sparring, will that appease you Arya?"

Arya nodded eagerly.

"So be it," King Robert said, before raising his voice. "SQUIRES, IN PAIRS FOR SPARRING."

As Arya moved with Robb onto the field she spotted Sansa in the stands. She couldn't make out her sisters expression, but she was watching Robb and herself closely.

"I'm sure we could find armour small enough for you, Arya," Robb offered. "It does hurt when you get hit with these swords, even if they have blunted edges."

"No thank you, my prince," teased Arya. Syrio had told Arya that armour was not needed for those who knew the water dance. "_It slows us down, you see. We move quick and strike hard. No need for metal to slow our movement. Just so," _he had said.

As they circled each other, Arya switched her sword from her right hand to her left. Robb watched her do this, and look at her in surprise.

"A-ha! She's keeping you guessing, m'boy!" the King boomed, chuckling.

Robb laughed along with his father. "You've planned all this out, haven't you?"

"Yes," stated Arya, too focused to see the funny side.

Robb surged forward with more speed that Arya had anticipated, but he still wasn't quite fast enough. Arya pivoted and dodged the blow. Arya knew Robb wasn't attempting to hit her with anything that resembled maximum force, but she still feared the moment when a blow would make contact. Robb moved forward again, although Arya was pleased to note that he had kept his sword hand down, rather than raising it well before he meant to strike.

This time, Arya was forced to raise Needle above her head to meet Robb's sword. Steel met steel with a clang, and Arya used all her strength to throw Robb's sword away before she moved back into the fighting stance Syrio had drilled into her in the two weeks she had known him.

Just as she had settled into the water dance stance, she burst forward, surprising the Baratheon prince. He hastily brought his sword down to meet Needle. They exchanged several blows before Arya dipped Needle, and hit Robb's leg. She had meant to hit him with the flat side of Needle, but in the heat of the moment she forgot herself and slashed at the Prince's leg.

Horrified, Arya watched as Robb went down with a heavy thud, dropping his sword in the process. Realising what had happened, the squires, who had been focusing on their own sparring partners, stopped their fights to stare at the young girl who had injured their prince.

Arya looked up at the stands, hoping to find a familiar face, but Arya couldn't see Sansa anywhere. This mystery was solved almost immediately when a breathless Sansa appeared at Arya's side, having run from the stands the moment she knew what had happened.

A circle had formed around Arya and Robb, the silence almost defening her. Then, Robb let out a carefree laugh, and struggled to his feet. His dirty breeches were painted red, where Arya had cut him, but he seemed not to notice. "Well met, young Arya," he joked offering his hand to the dark haired Stark.

Even as Robb extended his hand, the silence from everyone else in the yard stretched on for an eternity; or so it seemed to Arya. She timidly took Robb's hand, shaking it. A larger hand was suddenly on her shoulder, and Arya turned to meet King Robert's gaze.

"You truly are Lyanna's niece," the King smiled, blue eyes shining. "Don't worry about Robb's leg, if he had been concentrating he would've seen that sword of yours coming. It's only a small cut, isn't it son?"

"Nothing to worry about," Robb reassured Arya. "You're quite skilled Arya. You'll have to show me a thing or two some other time." Robb was smiling at her, and Arya let out a relieved breath. She had scared herself when Needle had cut his leg, but the King and Robb seemed to have laughed it off already.

"Has your day been well spent then young lady?" The King asked Arya.

"Very well, Your Grace," Arya replied politely.

"I'd say that's enough for today, wouldn't you Selmy?" King Robert called to Ser Barristan.

"Yes, Your Grace." Ser Barristan signaled with his hand, conveying that training had ended for the day. Some knights made no move to leave the yard though, instead wishing to remain and train a while longer.

"Robb, go to Pycelle and get him to clean the wound," King Robert ordered his son.

"It's nothing, father. I see no reason to trouble the Grand Maester," Robb reassured him, but the King did not relent.

"It makes no matter, I'm sure Pycelle can spare a minute to look at and clean the cut," Robert Baratheon said gruffly, in a tone that brokered no argument. "Go."

"Yes father," the Prince said, before reluctantly heading off into the Red Keep. As he walked off, Jory and the other Winterfell guards who had participated in the training emerged from the armoury. They made their way towards Arya and Sansa, looking tired but buoyant.

"We should be heading back to your chambers now, my ladies," Jory remarked.

Arya and Sansa followed Jory and the Winterfell men as they made their way back to the Tower of the Hand, disappointed at the end of the days events. The day hadn't quite gone exactly as Arya had planned it, but she was pleased nevertheless. And she had even been invited to fight Robb even more! Apart from the slight distress caused by injuring a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Arya was pleased with herself.

Very pleased.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Hope you all liked that, and liked how I wrote Arya. She's a hard character to get right in my opinion._

_Please review, it makes my day a little better._

_Coming up in chapter 12: the Hand's Tourney._


	11. Chapter 11 - Sansa IV

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Hopefully everyone will appreciate this chapter. I'm pretty happy with it myself!_

_Just a quick notice: My awesome beta reader __**HarryLee94**__ is currently in America working as a camp leader, and will be there till late August/early September. However, she is so cool, that she has said she will continue in her role as beta-reader even when in America. For the fic, this means that gaps between updates may become more defined. Right now, I'm writing and updating whenever I can, but we have come to an agreement that if I send the chapter to her and hear nothing back within 2 weeks I will go ahead and post the chapter regardless. We do hope this won't happen, but please just bear with us for the next few months. Updates are always being written, but the editing process may take longer than it has so far. But I would just like to say thanks again to __**HarryLee94**__ for actually wanting to continue as beta reader. I wouldn't have had a problem with working away on my own again while you were enjoying your summer in America._

_But that's enough for now. Here's chapter 11!_

_Sansa_

The excitement that had been building before the start of the Hand's tournament was astounding, and King's Landing had come alive as participants and spectators alike had arrived from all corners of Westeros. Taverns were full day and night, as were brothels of decidedly opposing standards. All competitors shared the same dreams of glory and riches, and all were determined to make these dreams a reality.

The tourney would run for two whole days, the first hosting the jousting competition, while the second included the melee and archery tournament. To break up the fierce contests, a feast of enormous proportions had been arranged for the night after the jousting competition had come to an end.

Sansa could not say what she was more excited for. The jousting promised to be an enthralling experience, and to make it even better, her father had promised to accompany her. Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole were also to attend the tourney with them.

Eddard Stark had promised to make his way to the hastily erected pavillion beyond the city walls as soon as he was able, but he had other pressing business to see to. Sansa was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to ride with them to the tourney in their grand litter, but he was Hand of the King; whatever her father had to do must be important.

However, her father had arranged specific seating for them all, amongst the high lords and ladies. As she took her seat, Sansa took in her surroundings. They were seated low down in the stands, which meant they had prime seating to watch the jousting unfold. Sansa was proud to say she could name almost every competitor that went past; all seven of the Kingsguard, The Mountain That Rides, his brother The Hound, the red priest Thoros of Myr, Lord Beric Dondarrion, Jory, Alyn and Harwin from Winterfell. Septa Mordane pointed out more significant names; Lord Jason Mallister, Lord Yohn Royce who's face was familiar to Sansa from a visit to Winterfell many years ago. Sansa was pleased to see that Lord Renly had also entered the lists, as had the Knight of Flowers. Loras Tyrell was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden. Loras was only sixteen but had an air of confidence around him. Sansa found it hard to believe that the Knight of Flowers was the same age as Joffrey. The two couldn't be more different.

Joffrey was sitting with his mother and father in the royal box looking thoroughly bored. The King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms sat side by side, with Joffrey sitting to his father's right hand side, a position bestowed on him as the Crown Prince. Robb sat to his mother's left hand side, an excited grin on his face, and it was all too clear that he was more enthusiastic about the tournament than his brother. It was King Robert who gave the signal for the joust to begin, and the stands erupted with cheers and shouts of joy and encouragement as the first of the competitors arrived. Sansa was delighted when her father appreared, just as the first match was about to begin.

"How are you, child?" Ned Stark asked his elder daughter.

"Very well father, you've arrived just in time for the first match," Sansa reported, her excitement evident.

Lord Eddard settled into his seat beside Sansa as she turned back to watch the events unfold before her. The jousting was riveting to watch, the crowd shouting on their favourites. The competition lasted all day, although Sansa barely noticed. She and Jeyne watched with wide eyes as the riders crashed together, lances splintering into tiny pieces as they came into contact with their opponents time and again. Men fell from their horses, some were even dragged along the ground when their feet caught in the stirrups, their horses still charging along from their now missing master's command. Jeyne would scream whenever this happened, but Sansa would turn her head to watch her father's reaction. Seeing how he acted made Sansa do the same.

There was only one point in the day that made Sansa almost lose her composure. Ser Gregor Clegane, known as the Mountain Who Rides for his huge size was matched against a young knight from the Vale of Arryn, and during their joust his lance rode up and struck the young knight under the gorget with such force that it was driven through his throat, ending his life instantly. Jeyne had to be taken away by Septa Mordane to regain her composure when she began to weep uncontrollably at the sight of the knight's blood staining the ground on which he had ridden on just moments before.

As the nameless knight was carried out of the stadium, Sansa looked at the royal box. She was disgusted to see the Joffrey was smirking; how anyone could smirk at such a situation was something Sansa could never comprehend. Robb, on the other hand, looked disgusted. He was watching Ser Gregor with dark eyes, anger and revulsion evident on his handsome face.

After that unfortunate event, things seemed to die down a little. Lord Renly was unhorsed by The Hound, and Lord Beric was defeated by Thoros of Myr. The bald priest was a surprisingly talented jouster, Sansa thought. At the end of the first day, four competitors were left: Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Gregor Clegane, Sandor Clegane and Ser Loras Tyrell. Each had won their jousts with little difficulty, even Ser Loras who was easily the youngest participant of the entire competition. He had unhorsed Ser Robar Royce in his final match of the day, and, to Sansa's utter surprise, rode up to her after his victory. The young Tyrell had been handing out white roses to maids after each of his wins, but this time was different. Ser Loras extended his right arm towards Sansa, handing a red rose over to her.

_"Sweet lady, _he said, "_no victory is half so beautiful as you_." Sansa took the flower from him delicately, giving the Knight of Flowers a small smile as she did so. The rose was certainly a surprise, but Sansa was not as excited by the gallant gesture as she once might have been.

When the hour grew late and the night grew dark, King Robert declared that the remaining three matches would be fought the next morning before the melee, before announcing that the days events had come to an end, and the feast was now to be enjoyed. Sansa had forgotten about the feast amidst all the drama of the jousting tournament. Septa Mordane had yet to return with Jeyne, so Sansa and her father made their own way to the riverside, where the feast would be enjoyed.

As the guest of honour, Ned Stark was seated to the right side of the King, replacing the Crown Prince from the jousting stand. Sansa was also seated at the King's own table, two seats away from Queen Cersei. A feeling of horror settled upon Sansa as she realised that Joffrey would be the one to fill the currently empty seat to her own right side. They were betrothed, and would be expected to accompany each other at events such as this. Straining her neck in an attempt to catch her father's eye, Sansa had time to watch Prince Robb sit down on her father's left side. Robb must have sensed her eyes upon him, for he looked up to catch her gaze. Seeing who she was to spend the duration of the feast with, Robb gave Sansa an encouraging smile. Sansa nodded in response, wishing she would move to sit with Robb, rather than Joffrey.

Renly Baratheon and Tyrion Lannister were the last two to make up the King's table. Sansa had heard from her father earlier in the day that the youngest Lannister had returned to the capital that very day during all the festivities. Sansa had barely noticed his absence at court, and was not sure why he had taken so much longer to arrive back at King's Landing, but no one seemed to care that the Queen's brother had returned to them. However, it seemed as though Sansa had not been the only one to remain practically oblivious at his absence.

As Lord Renly and Tyrion settled themselves into their seats, King Robert officially called for the feast to begin. There was far too much food to choose from, and Sansa herself ate very little. Joffrey made no effort to speak to her, instead preferring to talk to his mother about things Sansa could not hear. As the courses dragged on, Septa Mordane arrived back at Sansa's side, announcing that Jeyne did not feel well and had been taken back to the castle. The septa looked rather tired after the walk too as well as from the Red Keep, and, rather uncharacteristically, motioned at a servant to fill her goblet with wine, saying not another word the rest of the night. Sansa realised that the Septa did not want to interrupt her night with Joffrey, but she would have wished for nothing more.

Suddenly, Robb was by her side. "Would you care to dance, Lady Sansa?" As he stood behind Joffrey, Sansa was once again struck at how different the brothers were. Robb was dark where Joffrey was light, Robb was well built where Joffrey was slim, and most importantly, Robb was kind where Joffrey was cruel.

Before Sansa could answer, the Queen spoke to her second born son. "Now Robb, do you not think Joff should be the one asking his betrothed to dance?"

"I've not seen Joff talk to Sansa all evening, mother. I think she would be glad to dance with someone who will show her some courtesy," Robb replied curtly, his blue eyes meeting his mother's emerald green.

"If Sansa wants to dance with Robb, why stop her Cersei? Joff doesn't seem to mind," King Robert spoke suddenly, having overheard his wife's comment.

"As you wish," Cersei Lannister replied coldly.

Giving Robb a dazzling smile as she took his hand, Sansa's spirits instantly soared as they made their way onto the dance floor and away from Joffrey. Sansa's thoughts went to the feast thrown at Winterfell when King Robert had arrived. Robb had danced with her mother, the Lady Catelyn, Sansa remembered. King Robert had even danced with Arya, if dancing is what you could call it. Meanwhile, she had spent the entirety of the evening enthralled in whatever Joffrey had been saying. She couldn't even remember what was said between them that night, and she was glad of it.

Robb was a good dancer, unafraid to hold Sansa's body close to his own, or to make mistakes. They laughed together, before the partner change came and they were separated. Sansa enjoyed the rest of her partners, but was undoubtedly glad when she was reunited with Robb. As the song came to the end, both Robb and Sansa were out of breath.

"Could I get you a drink, Sansa?" Robb asked, breathing heavily.

"Please," was the only reply Sansa could make. Gesturing for her to take his arm, Robb led her back to their table, but this time took her to where he had been sitting earlier. Lord Renly had disappeared during their dance, she had noticed, leaving a seat vacant. Tyrion Lannister was well in his cups when they approached the table, but the Lannister more commonly known as the Imp spoke courteously enough to Sansa.

"Lady Sansa, it is good to see you again," Tyrion smiled. It was not a handsome smile, but Sansa appreciated it all the same.

"Thank you, my lord. I'm glad to see you back in King's Landing," Sansa replied politely.

"You are too kind. It seems as though Lord Renly has retired for the night. If you don't mind, Robb, I will move to sit with your father and Lord Stark, and leave you two to the rest of your night," Tyrion's mis-matched eyes moved between Robb and Sansa as he spoke, a small smile on his face, though his words were a little slurred.

Sansa's lord father had risen from his seat by the time Tyrion had waddled over to him and King Robert. Sansa saw him gesture for Tyrion to sit in his own seat as he spotted Sansa with Robb and made his way over to them.

"Sansa, I'm afraid I have a pressing matter to deal with. Will you be alright here with Septa Mordane, or do you wish to come back to our chambers with me now?"

"I'd like to stay, father," Sansa said softly.

Lord Eddard looked at Robb then, a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. "Very well, but no more wine."

"Yes father."

With that, Ned Stark left the hall, leaving Sansa and Robb to themselves. Tyrion and the King were laughing loudly two seats along from them, but neither Stark nor Baratheon noticed.

"Have you recovered from your training injury?" Sansa asked, frowning in concern.

Robb only laughed. "Oh yes. Your sister gave me quite the fight. But it was nothing of concern. It took Pycelle two minutes to clean and dress the wound, not that it even needed that much attention, but you heard my father insist on it."

"He meant well," Sansa argued.

"I know he did," Robb sighed. "And how can I hold that against him?"

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

A sudden shout went up from the King, startling both Sansa and Robb.

"NO," the King boomed, drowning out all other voices easily. _"You do not tell me what to do, woman," _he shouted at his wife. "_I am King here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight."_

Sansa was stunned to see that Robb was already by his father's side. She had remained frozen to the spot as King Robert had shouted, but Robb had acted quicker than she could have imagined.

The young Prince placed a hand gently on his father's arm. Robert Baratheon turned wildly to face whoever had touched him. The King's face immediately crumbled as he realised that it was his son who was attempting to calm him. His eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed several times, looking for words that could bring some kind of comfort to his son. Sansa watched as Robb leaned in closer to his father and whispered something to him. The King nodded meekly and Robb motioned for Ser Barristan and Ser Meryn to take the King to his chambers.

As the King was escorted from the feast, Robb went to one knee in front of his mother. She could see him speak to her, but could not hear what was being said.

Sansa watched the exchange, taken aback when Cersei Lannister cupped her sons cheek, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. Sansa had never seen the Queen act anything other than coldly. _This is the same woman who sentenced Lady to death_, Sansa thought weakly. She had never thought of Cersei Lannister as being Robb's mother as well as Joffrey's, and now that she was being presented with this fact in such a way, she felt startled and a little guilty.

The Queen rose gracefully from her seat, departing the feast. The tense atmosphere caused by the King's outburst diffused almost immediately when both King and Queen had left the vicinity. Robb returned to Sansa's side, his cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry Sansa, but would you mind if I retired for the night?" Robb looked almost ashamed as he asked the question, and Sansa rushed to answer.

Giving him an understanding look, she smiled. "Of course not, there's another full day of events, I can understand if you wish to rest." Sansa knew that was not the reason why Robb wished to leave the feast, but she didn't want him to feel guilty.

"Would you allow me to escort you and Septa Mordane back to the Red Keep, at the very least?" Robb requested.

"Of course, it would be my honour, my prince," Sansa responded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. She leaned forward to find her Septa, but found her asleep in her chair, red wine spilled all over her clothing, and her head on the table. Sansa had to stifle her laughter at the sight. "I think it would be best to leave Septa Mordane as she is. I don't think I'll be wrong to presume she won't be the only one left to sleep here tonight."

Robb laughed loudly when he too spotted the elderly Septa, fast asleep. "As you wish, my lady."

The walk back to the Red Keep was leisurely, Sansa and Robb chatting amicably as they made their way back. It was in this moment that Sansa was able to forget she was even betrothed to Joffrey. She thanked the Gods that Joffrey hadn't spoken to her, even tonight when his mother was so close. If he had spoken to her at all, she might have been forced to dance with him, instead of Robb asking her.

Robb was telling her of his life growing up in King's Landing as they ambled along. "My uncle Jaime's a member of the Kingsguard, so he's been around for as long as I can remember. I love him, but I've always found him harder to get along with than my father's brothers, or even uncle Tyrion. Uncle Jaime's much more sure of himself, and loves my mother fiercely. I can't help but think that's the one difference between him and my other uncle's."

"What about Lord Stannis? I've yet to meet him." Sansa liked listening to Robb, he had a different way of telling tales than to Joffrey; Joff obviously enjoyed talking about himself, and was an able liar, but Robb had a endearing simplicity to him. He was honest, maybe to a fault.

"Of all my uncles, Stannis is the man I respect the most," Robb said firmly. "I had hoped he would return to King's Landing for the tourney, but we've heard nothing from Dragonstone. Stannis Baratheon is a good and able man, my father should appreciate him more.

"Father and his brothers have never had the best of relationships, but they've never done anything unforgivable to the others. When I was growing up, it was father who gave me my first sword. Uncle Renly bought me all the best clothes, and uncle Stannis bought me books. He did the same for Joff. He told Joffrey a King needed to know his people's history, and he had to know his laws so he could punish and reward everyone as they deserved. Did you ever hear about how he knighted the Onion Knight?" Robb smiled proudly as he told Sansa of his uncles, a smile that made Sansa's heart flutter.

"Father told me of it. He said that Lord Stannis knighted a smuggler who provided him with onions during the siege at Storm's End. And that he had the first joint of each finger of the smuggler's right hand cut off, as punishment for his many years as a smuggler." Sansa recited the tale perfectly, remembering well the day her father had told it.

"Father's always said that Stannis would make a better King than him. Stannis should have been the first born son, he says. Sometimes I can't help but agree with him."

The journey from the riverside to the Red Keep went by disappointingly fast for Sansa. She could have walked and talked with Robb all night long. _The knights in the songs all have blonde hair, but I would rather they had black hair, _Sansa thought as they approached the Tower of the Hand.

"Goodnight, my lady," Robb said softly as they came to the corridor that led to Sansa's bedchambers. They had passed the Winterfell guards on the way up, every one of them bowing respectfully at Robb as he passed.

"Goodnight, Robb," Sansa whispered, almost afraid that talking too loudly would result in her waking up from this wonderful dream.

Robb gently untangled Sansa's arm from his own, taking her hands in his, and placing a soft kiss on each. As he looked up from her hands, their eyes locked. Sansa could barely breathe as she watched Robb lean down and then felt his lips on hers. His kiss was tender and chaste, and everything Sansa could ever have dreamed of.

But then, rather abruptly, Robb's lips left her own. "I... I'm sorry, I should not have done that. ... You are my brother's betrothed. I... One day you'll be my Queen. I, I'm sorry."

And he was gone.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Thoughts? Reviews are loved, as always. _

_Everyone's reviews/favourites/alerts continue to motivate and inspire me, and make me smile! I also wanna say thanks to the guest reviewers, who I can't reply too. Your thoughts are always welcomed!_

_And just a little reminder: Everything Ned does in A Game of Thrones is still happening, just off page. We've already seen his investigations in book/series 1, it's not needed here. I'm focusing on the original aspect of this fic ie. Robb and Sansa. Just keep in mind that everything else is happening as per canon, unless stated otherwise._

_Hope you all enjoyed that little read. _


	12. Chapter 12 - Robb V

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: __Sorry this has taken a while guys, but thanks for bearing with me!_

_The response to last chapter was amazing, and I can't thank you all enough. I hope this chapter keeps those positive thoughts going._

_As always, thanks to __**HarryLee94**__ for all her kickass help! It means so damn much._

_Disclaimer: This ain't mine. I'm just writing for fun._

_But enough of my ramblings, here's chapter 12! Enjoy!_

_Robb_

Her lips.

Gods, her lips.

The mere thought of them was enough to keep Robb Baratheon from achieving a successful night's sleep. How could he have been so stupid?

Sansa Stark, no matter how much he cared for her, was betrothed to his brother. Joffrey was many vile things, but Robb knew he could not dishonour his brother or Sansa in such a way again. But those means of reasoning did not stop Robb's mind going back to the moment his lips had met Sansa's. He was old enough to understand his attraction to the auburn-haired Stark, but it still left him uneasy. He should have been more aware of what was developing, that way he could have stopped things before they went too far. But it was too late for that now.

The image of Sansa's face as he had muttered his excuses and bolted haunted him. The shock, the _hurt_ that was all there for him to see. After Joffrey had proven how much of an ass he is by allowing Lady to be killed despite her innocence, Robb had sworn to himself that he would never hurt Sansa in any way. He had sworn to do all he could to protect her from Joffrey's wrath. He had sworn to be better than his elder brother.

If there was any way he could be with Sansa, Robb knew he would seize the opportunity, but that was not possible. She was to be Queen, and Westeros deserved a Queen like Sansa Stark. Robb could not take her away from the people, no matter how much he wanted to take her away from Joffrey.

Realising that there was another day of the Hand's tournament to attend, Robb forced himself to rise from his bed and prepare himself for the day ahead. After washing and dressing himself in clothing his mother would approve of, Robb departed from his own chambers, hoping to find his father and break his fast with him, all the while torn about whether he wished to see Sansa today or not.

Robb found his father down by the pavilion, breaking his fast and washing it down with a horn of ale in the tent that had been erected for the King. The King seemed to be in good spirits as Robb sat down across from him. Servants hurried around father and son to bring Robb a plate of food.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were coming today," Robert Baratheon told his son. "Joffery and your mother have decided against attending today, but it pleases me that you are here."

Robb frowned. "Why is Joff not attending?" he asked, as his plate was placed in front of him; the smell was mouth-watering.

"No idea," his father replied bluntly. "Seems he is not keen on sitting amongst the people. I'll say this for Cersei at least; she knows how to act in public."

Robb lowered his eyes to his plate at the mention of his mother. The King had made no acknowledgement of his actions the previous night at the feast. Until now.

King Robert cleared his throat, and looked at his second born son, blue eyes meeting identical blue. "I apologise to you, Robb... For yesterday," he muttered. The King's eyes were downcast, and it suddenly occurred to Robb that this was the first time he had ever seen his father looked so ashamed. "I drank far too much last night, and said things I shouldn't have. Especially with you and Joff at the feast. I'm sorry."

"Have you apologised to mother?" Robb was happy with his father's apology, but it wasn't him it was owed to.

Robert Baratheon squirmed at the question, giving Robb all the information he needed.

"It's her you have to apologise to, not me," he told his father firmly.

"Alright, alright," the King of the Seven Kingdoms huffed. "I'll make a point of seeking out my wife tonight to try and make amends. But can you and I enjoy today's events, at least?

Robb smiled at that. "Of course, father."

"The final rounds of the jousting will start the day off. We'll enjoy that together from the royal box. Then we shall move onto the melee, and I will have to leave you then. I intend to compete."

"Compete?" Robb spluttered. "Father, you can't. You are the King, your life is worth more than that."

"Nonsense," King Robert responded with a smirk on his face. "Tell me lad, when I have my warhammer in my hand, who can stop me?"

That remark gives Robb pause for thought, because he truly does not have an answer. "Still, who knows what might happen. Melee's are chaotic, an accident could occur."

The King shrugged off the possibility. "Just as an accident may _not_ occur."

Robb's attempt to respond was silenced as the entrance flap of the tent was pushed aside and Eddard Stark entered. The King's Hand looked harassed.

"Your Grace," Ned said formally, bowing to his King.

"How many times must I tell you to stop this nonsense, Ned?" Robb's father grumbled to his oldest friend.

"At least once more, it would seem," the Northern lord replied.

King Robert laughed loudly at that remark. When he had stopped guffawing, he turned to face his son and friend.

"My son here does not wish me to enter the melee. What say you, Ned?"

"I agree," Ned admitted. "Why must you compete in such an event? Who knows what could happen."

"Seven hells," the King cursed. "You and my son are far too alike, it seems. Still, I wouldn't call that a bad thing," he added, a true smile coming to his face.

"I've tried to make him see sense, Lord Stark," Robb interrupted, hoping his father would listen to Ned.

"Robert, no one will dare strike their King, you know this," Ned said evenly. "You'll win without breaking a sweat."

That shocked the King into silence. When he finally spoke, his words were full of surprise. "But... But, I am their King!" he roared. "Surely if I enter the melee I know what it involves. I'm still the same man who defeated Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident all those years ago."

"Why this sudden wish to enter?" Ned asked.

The King's face reddened. "That was the source of my disagreement with Cersei last night. She forbade me to enter. _Forbade me, _Ned. Granted, the drink made me reacted stronger that I may have intended, but still."

"You're not going to convince us that it's for the best, father. You'll enter and win, it is that simple."

Robert Baratheon looked from his son to his Hand, lost for words.

"Come now, Robert, prepare yourself for the day ahead. Robb, will you stay with your father or join me to make our way down to the tourney grounds?" The King's Hand asked.

Before Robb could answer, his father spoke up. "You may as well go with Ned, lad. I won't be far behind you."

"Yes, father," Robb said, turning to leave the tent, Lord Eddard at his side.

As they began the short walk from the King's pavillion to the tourney grounds, Robb found it difficult to think of anything to say. All he could think about was Sansa and if she had told her father about what had happened between them. But, it seemed like she hadn't, for Lord Eddard made no attempt to broach the subject with the young Baratheon.

"Will your daughters be joining you for the day, my lord?" Robb finally asked, eager to end the silence between the two, although it only seemed to have been an awkward silence for Robb.

"Only Sansa," the Lord of Winterfell replied lightly. "Arya will spend the day with her dancing instructor."

"Dancing instructor?" Robb asked, not believing for one moment that Arya Stark would be taking dancing lessons.

Ned Stark chuckled at Robb's reaction. "That's what we have agreed to disguise them as. Arya has been receiving sword lessons for some time now."

"So she shall only have improved from the day she bested me?" Robb asked, amused by the whole situation.

"Most definitely."

The pair walked in silence for a few more moment, each listening as the shouts from the tourney grounds grew louder. What started as a fairly lonely walk, soon evolved, with Robb and Ned meeting a great crowd, all of whom were also making their way to the grounds.

"I expect your father will be the last to arrive in the royal box," Ned commented. He continued on when Robb only gave him a confused look. "Since your mother and siblings will not be attending the tourney today, your father has asked myself and Sansa to join you. Lord Renly and Lord Tyrion have also been extended the same invitation."

So he _would _see Sansa today. Robb all of a sudden became very nervous.

The stands were filled with smallfolk, all eager to see who would emerge victorious in the jousting competition. Only three sections were left over to the high lords and ladies, one of which was the royal box, which seated six; the King, the Queen and their four children.

Robb and Lord Stark arrived to find half of the company seated, albeit one was not in their correct seat. Renly Baratheon had seated himself in the King's own seat.

"Lord Renly, your brother will be arriving soon, you should return to your own seat." Eddard Stark spoke with an ice in his voice that Robb had not heard before.

"Nothing's meant, Lord Stark," Renly said happily. "I was just keeping the seat warm for my dear brother."

Robb took his own seat, feeling slightly unsettled by the sight of his uncle in his father's seat. Renly had always been extravagant, and would no doubt enjoy the finer aspects that came with being the King of the Seven Kingdoms, but Robb couldn't help but view the decision to place himself on the King's seat as a slight. Renly was not even next in line for the Iron Throne after the King's own children; that position went to Robert Baratheon's other brother, Stannis.

Robb fought with himself not to look at Sansa, but his restraint did not last. Before long, he had turned his head to looks at the elder Stark daughter. Sansa met his gaze, although not for long, before returning to her original position of surveying the stands.

King Robert Baratheon arrived not long after Robb had taken his seat, a horn of ale already in his large hand. "You win," was all he said to Robb and Ned as he took his seat, unaware of who had been occupying it moments before.

Robb cheered with the rest of the crowd as the last remaining jousters paraded around the stadium, quickly becoming absorbed in the competition. Robb hoped his uncle Jaime would emerge as the winner, but those hopes were quickly shattered when Ser Jaime Lannister was soundly defeated by Sandor Clegane.

The next match would take place between Ser Loras Tyrell and Ser Gregor Clegane. Robb had a fierce hatred for the elder Clegane brother, and not just for his actions during the previous days joust. The story of the Sack of King's Landing was not a strange one to the Baratheon prince's ears. He could not remember where he had heard the story, but he had no doubt that the tale was true. Seeing Gregor Clegane competing made Robb feel ill.

Robb watched with wide eyes as the young Tyrell and the Moutain That Rides charged towards each other, before the Mountain's lost control of his steed. Robb vaguely heard Sansa gasp from her seat beside his, but could not take his eyes of the arena floor. It was only when Sansa grasped his forearm that he tore his eyes away.

Looking at Sansa, he could see she was afraid of what could happen. Glancing back at the arena Robb saw Gregor Clegane hack violently at his horses neck, almost severing it with one blow. Robb's head snapped back round to face Sansa, who's own eyes were still directed at the sight before them.

Robb pried Sansa's hand off his arm, before intertwining their fingers together firmly. But still she did not look at him. Instead, Robb saw a single tear escape from her eye as she eyed the dead stallion and watched Ser Gregor send Loras Tyrell to the ground with one fierce blow.

"SANSA," Robb commanded firmly, turning her head gently with his free hand. "Look at me, Sansa. Focus on me." Robb nodded his head encouragingly at the auburn haired Stark, as her eyes showed a hint of recognition at the sound of his voice. "It's ok, it's ok. Focus on my voice, ok. I'm here, everything's fine."

His words seemed to be having the desired effect. Sansa's breathing calmed and her face got some of its colour back. _She's never seen someone attempt to kill in cold blood, _he realized suddenly.

Sparing one more look at what was happening down in the arena, Robb saw Sandor Clegane exchange blows with his elder brother.

"ENOUGH!" Robb heard his father boom. The voice of the King carried throughout the stadium easily, bringing Sandor Clegane to his knee just as his brother swung his sword, the blow passing harmlessly over the Hound's head.

Ser Gregor stormed out of the stadium, as the crowd cheered wildly for the Hound. Robb turned back to Sansa once again, only to find her watching the Hound with wide eyes.

"Sansa, are you ok?" he asked, concerned.

Sansa just nodded her head weakly.

Robb noticed that their fingers were still intertwined, but made no move to untangle them.

All the while, Robb had not noticed the two pairs of eyes that had witnessed his entire exchange with the young Stark.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ I hope that was worth the wait. Reviews are love guys!_

_I know what I want to happen in chapter 13, so hopefully it won't take too long, but don't hold me to that. Sometimes life just gets in the way, you know?_

_But yeah, leave a review if you feel like it. If not, that's cool to, but I do love hearing your thoughts._

_Much love, and until next time! Over and out._


	13. Chapter 13 - Robert I

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Chapter 13 is here! And we even have a new POV. I hope you all like my take on this character, who is one of my favourites. _

_Thanks as always to my wonderful beta reader __**HarryLee94**__, who continues to be awesome._

_In this chapter, the italics at the start indicate a flashback._

_I have nothing more to add, except enjoy chapter 13!_

_Robert_

_"Would you care to dance, Lady Sansa?" _

_King Robert Baratheon looked up from his plate, turning to face the direction from which the question had come. He was not surprised to find that his son was asking Sansa Stark to dance. He was even less surprised that it was Robb, and not Joffrey, who was extending the invitation to Ned's eldest daughter._

_A smile formed fleetingly upon Sansa's lips, and the King of the Seven Kingdoms could see that she was about to respond. But before she could form her answer, she was interrupted by his dear wife._

_"Now Robb, do you not think Joff should be the one asking his betrothed to dance?" Cersei Lannister questioned lightly._

_"I've not seen Joff talk to Sansa all evening, mother. I think she would be glad to dance with someone who will show her some courtesy," Robb replied curtly, the blue eyes he had inherited from his father meeting his mother's emerald green._

_"If Sansa wants to dance with Robb, why stop her Cersei? Joff doesn't seem to mind," he told his wife. It was true enough, Joff had not spoken to the Stark girl all night, and if anything, Sansa actually seemed to want to dance with his second born._

_"As you wish," Cersei Lannister replied coldly._

The King was brought out of his thoughts by a loud knock on his chamber door. Jaime Lannister had the guard this hour, but as the door opened it was not the golden haired man he saw, but Ned who came through. Robert had summoned his oldest and dearest friend to his chambers for a reason of upmost importance, which was why he did not even bother to offer his Hand a cup of wine. Instead, he poured himself and Ned cups of water.

The stoic expression of his childhood friend showed a hint of surprise upon realising that both cups only held water, but Ned said nothing.

"Tell me truly, Ned," the King began, after taking a sip, weighing his words. "You recall the conversation we had all those months ago in Winterfell about the betrothal that would finally join our houses. Were you truly happy with the decision that was made? he asked, studying the Warden of the North before continuing. "I mean it Ned, tell me the truth. Don't speak to me as your King, or even as your friend. Speak to me as Sansa's father."

Ned Stark remained silent for a moment, considering his words. "I would have preferred if Sansa had not been betrothed to Joffrey," he finally said, gray eyes meeting blue.

Robert sighed noisily, but he had been expected an answer much like this. "How so?"

"I don't think Joffrey is right for Sansa. I'm sorry Robert, truly, but I saw the look of victory in his eyes when he suggested that Lady die in Nymeria's place. He took too much pleasure from hurting Sansa. That I can never forgive." Ned spoke evenly, his eyes never leaving his King's, but his eyes were filled with an icy coldness that bespokeof the inner rage still burning within him.

"Joff... Joff has always been difficult," Robert admitted. "But I have not been the best father to him. I've done things I regret more than I can say, and Joffrey turning out as he had is one of the biggest."

"What about Robb? He is a son any man would be proud to have. And Tommen and Myrcella are both sweet, gentle children Robert," Ned argued, all the time wondering where this conversation was leading.

Robert Baratheon smiled at the praise of his other three children. "I've neglected all my children but Robb, I fear. He's just always been the one I could relate to. He wants to learn to fight, and he actually wants to spend time with _me_, Ned."

"You still have time to be a father Robert. Your children will never stop needing their father. And you have done well with Robb, he's an honourable young man." Ned watched as Robert Baratheon took in those words. His heart swelled as he saw, for perhaps the first time since he arrived in King's Landing, the Robert he grew up with, not just the drunken man he had become.

"As you said, Ned," the King murmured. "Now, I can't be sure about you, but I've certainly noticed things since we returned to King's Landing."

Robert watched as Ned's body language changed; he seemed to become more alert. "What kind of things, Your Grace?"

Robert ignored the 'Your Grace' comment, instead choosing to focus on the matter at hand. "You say Joffrey is not a suitable match for Sansa, and I am inclined to agree. I've been watching him as best I can since the wolf incident on the Trident, and I can't say I've liked what I have witnessed. He's acted coldly towards Sansa, and the girl deserves better. She's a sweet girl, your Sansa. Young Arya has much of her aunt Lyanna in her, as I'm sure you know," Robert said fondly. "She can fight her own battles; we saw her do so at Darry's castle. But I'm afraid, and I hope you will forgive me for this comment Ned, that Sansa needs more protecting. She's a good natured young woman, but Joff has taken advantage of that. I propose to you now that we break the betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa," the King finished, his voice as serious as Ned had ever heard it.

Ned hesitated before speaking. "Robert, are you sure about this? What will Cersei say when she finds out?"

"Damn Cersei Lannister," Robert roared. "This is not about her."

"Very well," the Hand of the King responded calmly. "I have no issue with ending the betrothal, and I do not doubt Sansa will say the same. She has not been the same since Lady's death, and she has not looked upon Joffrey the same since. Is that all, Your Grace?"

"No," the King of the Seven Kingdoms said simply. "I want to put forward the idea of another betrothal in place of the broken one." Robert did not miss the way Ned's face became weary at the mention of a new betrothal for a member of his family. All he could hope was that he would appreciate this idea. "Robb and Sansa should marry in place of Joff and Sansa. I believe, given what I have come to witness over the past weeks, that Robb and Sansa would be a much better match than Sansa and Joff. You've seen the way they act around each other, Ned. If something has not developed there yet, it won't be long before it does. Robb has spent more time with Sansa that Joffrey has bothered too. You saw how they handled the issue with that young lass when we arrived back in the city. They danced together at the feast not five days past, and it was clear for everyone to see how much my boy cares for your Sansa the day Gregor Clegane beheaded his horse. I know my son, Ned, and he'll make Sansa happy. Like Lyanna was going to make me happy."

Ned's visage darkened as he set his jaw. "Robert, I appreciate the thought you have so obviously put into this suggestion. But I will not agree to marry Sansa off again, even to a man like Robb. Bring Sansa and Robb here, and hear their thoughts first. We owe them that much."

Robert Baratheon stared at his oldest friend for a long while, before breaking out into his booming laugh. "You speak sense, Stark. Yes, we will bring Robb and Sansa here." And with that, King Robert rose from his seat and went to the chamber door. By this time, the guard had changed, and Meryn Trant was revealed to have taken over from the Kingslayer. "Trant, send for Prince Robb and Lady Sansa Stark, if you would."

"Yes, Your Grace," the Kingsguard knight replied quickly.

Robert knew that Robb would be found in the yard, practicing his sword and lance skills, and Sansa would most likely be under the tutelage of Septa Mordane at this time of the day. It did not take Ser Meryn long to return to the King's chambers, with both Robb and Sansa in tow.

Robert Baratheon looked at the pair as they stood side by side before him. Arya had the Stark look, but Sansa was all Tully, the very vision of her mother when Lady Catelyn had been at this age. Sansa had a kind face, her delicate features suiting her perfectly, not a blemish to be seen.

Robb was a Baratheon, it was plain to see. He had the same jet black hair and deep blue eyes as his father and uncles, and the strong build his father was famous for. But he also walked and spoke with an elegance Robert Baratheon had never possessed. Those traits he got from his mother. Without realising, the King's drew himself up to his full height and smiled; he was truly proud of the man standing before him, and perhaps Ned was right, and there was still time for him to make amends with his other children._ Tommen's fond of kittens, _he remembered suddenly, resolving to purchase one for him.

Clearing his throat, the King ordered Ser Meryn to step back outside his chambers, and send Barristan Selmy in. If he was going to discuss new betrothals, he did not want a knight who would report back to his wife to listen.

_"_Selmy, what is discussed here will not leave this room. Do you understand?" he asked firmly, knowing full well that Barristan Selmy would remain loyal.

"Yes, Your Grace," the legendary knight replied, the King not missing the hint of curiosity that appeared in the Lord Commander's eyes.

Nodding at the man's promise, he turned back to the children before him. "Sansa, Robb, please take a seat." He watched as they moved to sit in the chairs that had been moved to accommodate them before motioning towards the waterjug. "Can I offer you a drink?" the words felt clumsy as he spoke, Robert Baratheon had never been able to master the art of easy courtesy, even after becoming the ruler of Westeros.

Both Robb and Sansa shook their heads, silently refusing the offer of a beverage. The King could sense the nervousness from both of them, and decided that a rather blunt approach may be the best way to address the matter at hand.

"How are relations with my eldest son, Sansa?" He asked, noticing how she lowered her eyes for a moment and took a breath before returning to meet his gaze. "No need to worry, tell my truly and I promise I will do what is best for you." The King spoke softly, hoping Sansa would find it in herself to trust him with the truth.

"The Crown Prince is most courteous, Your Grace. You should be very proud," Sansa replied in a monotonous tone.

Robert shared a look with Ned, who was standing protectively behind Sansa. The Lord of Winterfell exhaled noisily, and lowered himself to Sansa's level. "Sansa, Robert feels that breaking your betrothal to Joffrey may be the best course of action for you. Is this something you want?"

The girls eyes widened, her eyes moving between her father and himself, and Robert could swear he could see a flicker of hope kindling in them. Robb, however, only had eyes for her, though they seemed to be equally as wide.

"You have a choice here, Sansa. You will not be forced into a marriage that will not make you happy," Robert added, wanting to make it clear that the decision was Sansa's alone. "Do you wish to remain betrothed to Joffrey?"

Still in a state of shock, Sansa merely shook her head, mouth haning open a little. "No, Your Grace," she whispered finally.

"Then consider the betrothal broken," King Robert said simply. Joffrey may be his son and heir, but the smile that came to Sansa Stark's face as she was freed from her engagement made Robert Baratheon feel as though he had finally done something right. He would make another match for Joffrey, for there would be no shortages of maids eager to marry the future King.

"However," the King began again, "You are the eldest daughter of a noble and great house, so it is expected that a suitable match is made for you. Much as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms is expected to marry suitably," he continued, turning to look at his son who's face seemed to hold a mixture of shock, joy and fear. "Myself and Ned have called you both here today to propose this to you: a marriage between you both."

The suggestion was met with a resounding silence, although the King had hoped Robb and Sansa would have happily accepted the proposal instantly.

But before he could speak up again in an attempt to convince the two of the benefits of this betrothal, Robb had left his seat and knelt down in front of Sansa, taking her hands in his own.

"Sansa," he began, an unsure expression on his face, "I was drawn to you from the very first instant I saw you in Winterfell all those months ago. If I could have, I would have loved you openly from that moment on. But you were betrothed to my brother, the brother who I will one day call King. It just wasn't in me to shame Joff or you like that. But now that you are free from that betrothal, I would never wish for you to accept this suggestion only to please your father or mine. But know this; I want to marry you. It would make me so incredibly happy to be able to call you wife, and to hear you call me husband. I want to protect you, and love you, and become your family. I can make you happy, Sansa, I know I can."

The grin that came to Robert Baratheon's face in that moment was something he would never forget. Seeing his son speak so passionately about Sansa made him swell with pride. He knew Robb was an honourable young man; more honourable than himself, if truth be told. Unbidden, images of Robb and Sansa's future sprung into his mind; the grand wedding that would be thrown for them, the love they would share, the children they would create. All that was needed was Sansa Stark's consent.

The girl in question was looking at her hands in Robb's. The auburn haired Stark looked up slowly to meet Robb's gaze. Her mouth quivered as she sucked in a deep breath, her answer upon her lips, as a smile played upon them. "Yes, I will marry you, Robb Baratheon. It would be an honour to call you husband."

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ THEY'RE ENGAGED! Hope y'all like this turn of events. Yes? No? Let me know in a review._

_Reviews for last chapter were amazing, thank you so much to everyone who continues to support my little story._

_Until ne_x_t time..._


	14. Chapter 14 - Robb VI

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ My deepest apologies for the long wait, but chapter 14 is finally here! _

_As always, thanks a million to my awesome beta reader __**HarryLee94**__. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, I'm just writing for fun._

_Enough from me, here's chapter 14 for you all. I sincerely hope you all enjoy it!_

_Robb_

Robb Baratheon felt numb, the feeling almost completely overwhelming as he gazed at the face of his angel, but it was a pleasant numbness. The happiness he was feeling was too much for his adolescent mind to grasp, although he knew the feeling would overwhelm him eventually.

Not caring that their fathers and Ser Barristan were still in the room, he swept Sansa up on to her feet and into his strong arms. He had waited much too long to be able to do this openly, and he would spend the rest of his days making up for this. Cupping Sansa's face tenderly with his rough hands, and asking her permission with his eyes, Robb smiled and pressed his lips to hers, attempting to wordlessly tell Sansa how happy he was in this moment.

As the happy couple broke apart, they turned together to look at the other men in the room. Both Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark had smiles on their faces, a true joy radiating from them both for their children's obvious delight at the turn of events.

"This calls for a feast," the King declared suddenly, causing Robb and Ned to give him an uneasy look. "A small feast," he corrected himself, as he met Ned's eye, "- but a feast nevertheless."

Robb and Sansa shared a look, and at once came to the same conclusion. "Father," Robb began evenly, "perhaps it would be wiser to inform Joff and mother of this new betrothal before we tell the rest of King's Landing?"

The King coughed, and cleared his throat. "Of course, of course," he replied gruffly.

Ned nodded his approval at this idea, while Robb turned to his betrothed and spoke quietly to her:

"I will deal with my mother and Joffrey, you have had to deal with him long enough. My father will come with me and we will clear the air before we present ourselves to them together," Robb explained, as he looked into those beautiful Tully eyes. Sansa nodded her head slightly to indicate her agreement. Robb had no wish for Joffrey to upset her, and would prevent anything like happening at all if he could.

Turning to his father, Robb immediately had the air knocked out if him as he was pulled into a fierce hug. "I am truly proud of you, Robb. I know you shall treat Sansa with the honour and respect she deserves. Congratulations, my boy." The King spoke quietly, and Robb savoured this intimate moment with his father.

Unfortunately, like all such moments, it was not to last, and he found himself standing on his own once again, though the friendly weight of his father's hand rested on his shoulder. "Shall we find mother and Joff and tell them our news? The rest of the Seven Kingdoms can find out in due course. Perhaps Sansa and her lord father can arrange a letter to send to Winterfell bearing the details of this new betrothal. I'm sure Lady Catelyn would wish to know of her daughter's future marriage." Robb looked at the Stark father and daughter, receiving an approving nod from Ned, while Sansa blessed him with a warm smile.

"Come then," Robert Baratheon boomed, clasping Ned's hand before continuing on his way out of the chamber. "We'll be brothers through marriage yet, Ned. And one day, we'll even share grandchildren. Can you imagine us as grandparents?"

Eddard Stark laughed warmly at his oldest friends words, patting the King's shoulder.

"I shall come to you later and tell you how the news was taken," Robb said to Sansa as their father's exchanged their own parting words, holding her soft fingers in his own.

"Don't take too long," Sansa warned affectionately. "I want you to be there to see Arya's reaction when I tell her you and I are to marry."

Robb grinned at Sansa's words, hoping Arya would take the news well. Having Arya for a goodsister would certainly lead to many interesting possibilites and adventures.

Pressing a kiss tenderly to Sansa's lips, Robb felt almost delirious with happiness when he left his father's chambers, the both of them striding forward purposefully side by side.

The King had already dispatched messenger's to find Joffrey and his Queen and request their presence in the chamber where the small council meetings were held. As Robb and his father entered the chambers, Joff and his mother were nowhere to be seen.

Father and son settled into a comfortable silence, both steeling themselves for whatever Joff would have to say about the breaking of his betrothal, and even more so, how the Queen would react. It was not long before Joffrey and their mother entered the chamber room together, their blonde hair shining even in the dim light that surrounded them all.

"You... requested our presence?" Cersei Lannister asked icily, looking at her husband.

Robb watched as his father drew himself up to full height, all the while maintaining eye contact with his Queen. "Yes. Robb and I have an issue of great importance to discuss with yourself and Joff. Please, take a seat." The King gestured towards the almost empty table. Robb followed his mother and brother as they sat down next to each other on the opposite side of the table from the coal haired Baratheons.

"I'm just going to come out with it," the King began, "Joffrey, your betrothal to Sansa Stark has been dissolved." He paused momentarily, before continuing on swiftly, leaving the two no chance to comment. "Robb and Sansa will marry instead. I feel that this is the best for all parties involved. Joff, another marriage pact will be made for you. As future King, there will be no lack of maidens eager to become your wife. I think that perhaps the Tyrell girl would be a suitable match. Mace Tyrell has been at me for years to agree to marry his only daughter to my heir."

The King's words were met with a frosty silence. Robb was prepared for whatever his mother or brother would say to him, and knew he only had to wait for one or both of them to lose their temper.

"You mean to say," his mother began, her voice dangerously calm, "that Joff is not good enough for the Stark girl?"

"You misunderstand Cersei," King Robert replied. "I've barely seen Joff say two words to Sansa since we left Winterfell. I want all my children to be happy, and I do not think that match would have made anyone happy."

Robb glanced at Joffrey, who seemed to care very little that his future wife had been taken away from him.

"Mother," the golden haired boy began, "Do not fret. As father says, there will be no shortage of maidens eager to win my favour. I wish my dear brother and his betrothed nothing but happiness."

"There you have it," boomed the King. "If Joff's fine with all this, then you will be, Cersei."

The Queen's jaw tightened slightly as her cold gaze lowered to the table. "As you wish," Cersei Lannister said graciously, before leaving the small council chambers in a flourish of red and gold.

"Brother!" Joffrey announced, pulling Robb into a one armed hug. "Remember," the future King said, his voice nothing more than a whisper, "Sansa wanted me first. Never forget that. In Winterfell I was the man she was interested in. She's a pretty girl, of that there is no doubt. But when I'm King, she shall be as beautiful a woman as either you or I have ever seen. And the King can have _any_ woman he wants."

Joffrey left the room with a smirk firmly placed on his lips, leaving his brother to stare after him, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach.

Robb left the room feeling as though the happiness he had felt mere moments earlier had been sucked out of him completely.

Allowing his feet carry him to Sansa and Arya's chambers, his brother's words still swarming in his mind, he continued to mull over the distant future. By the time he had reached the Tower of the Hand, the confusion he had initially felt at Joffrey's words had been replaced by anger; - anger at him saying those words in the first place, for trying to destroy one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Taking a slow, calming breath Robb nodded at the guards placed at the door of the Stark sisters, and made his way into their living quarters.

Suddently, and for the second time that day, he was winded as Sansa launched herself into his arms. "I like being in your arms," she whispered. "I feel safe here."

With those words, Robb felt peace settle in his limbs. Joffrey would never hurt Sansa, not so long as he was around to protect her. And there was her father and sister, and no lack of guards. No, he vowed, Joffrey would never lay a finger on Sansa.

Robb and Sansa broke apart as Arya came bounding from her bed chamber, Needle safely attached to her hip.

"Arya," Sansa beamed, her magnificent blue eyes shining with her sweet radiance. "Robb and I have some truly wonderful news to share with you."

Arya looked from her sister to Robb, her grey eyes filled with curiosity. "Well?" She said as her patience wore thin.

Robb couldn't help the smile that came to his face, as Sansa turned to give him a stunning smile, her excitement evident. "Robb and I are to be married. My betrothal to Joffrey has been dissolved by the King."

Robb watched Arya expectantly, not entirely sure of how the younger Stark would react. Suddenly, Arya lips curved into a huge smile. "So now you shall truly be my brother?"

Robb and Sansa both laughed at Arya's words. "Yes, I suppose I will be. Our fathers are very happy with this match, and more importantly, so is Sansa. My father is certainly ecstatic to finally become part of the Stark family."

Arya rushed forward to hug her sister. From the look on Sansa's face, this was a surprising reaction from her sister, but the auburn-haired Stark returned the hug lovingly.

As Robb watched the exchange, he forgot Joffrey's words from earlier in the day. For now, all he would occupy himself was his betrothed, and the family he was already being welcomed in to.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ I certainly hope that was worth the wait. Whether it was or wasn't, leave your thoughts in a review. It would mean a whole lot!_

_I've attempted to plan out the next few chapters, so I have a good idea where I'm going for a little bit now._

_But, we have a long way to go with this fic, and I promise, I am not going to abandon this fic, ever. You guys deserve better than that. _

_Next chapter will be familiar to you all, but it will certainly allow me to take this fic to the next stage._

_Thanks for reading, enjoy life until I see you all next!_


	15. Chapter 15 - Ned II

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**__ Chapter 15 is here! I wrote like mad to get a new chapter out for you guys in an attempt to make up for the big wait for chapter 14. I did say in my last A/U that this would seem familiar to people. Well, it kinda should. But when I read the chapter back and started writing this chapter, I started to think that it might not. At least, not in the way a lot of you might have thought it would._

_But I digress! I hope you all enjoy chapter 15. I think you'll all agree that shit will be going down after this chapter. Enjoy!_

_Ned_

The feast was a moderate affair; or, at the very least, a moderate affair where Robert Baratheon was concerned. Neither Sansa or Robb were interested in another grand feast, even if this one would be to celebrate their betrothal. Both were content to savour a smaller, more family orientated feast, while ravens were dispatched all over the Seven Kingdoms with the news of their betrothal, and of the news that the Crown Prince was eager to become betrothed once again.

Eddard Stark sat to the left side of his elder daughter, with Arya on his other side. Sitting between his daughters made the King's Hand feel more at ease than he had for the duration of his stay in the capital so far. Arya was behaving herself for once, seemingly more than happy to play her part in making this night perfect for her sister and her betrothed.

The Lord of Winterfell watched as the young prince, who so resembled his father, whispered something in Sansa's ear, causing her to smile. That smile warmed Ned's heart, for he had seen too few smiles arise from Sansa's features since they had first entered King's Landing.

To the prince's right hand sat his own father, the King. Robert Baratheon was drinking deeply from his goblet, but this was the first time tonight that Ned had seen such indulgence from the King. Robert wore his finest clothes, which, for once, were not covered in wine stains. His antlered crown sat atop his fierce black hair, and Ned could not help but feel as though he was looking, for the first time, at the King Robert had always been capable of being. The betrothal of Robb and Sansa would forever be remembered as one of King Robert Baratheon's better notions, Ned would wager. He could already imagine he and his oldest friend talking about the genius of the betrothal, long after both men had become grey-haired and stiff. But Ned Stark could also imagine black haired and auburn haired children, all with deep blue eyes. This image came much easier than that of the blonde haired children Sansa might have produced with Joffrey. They would have been loved, of course, but the blonde hair never rang true with Ned.

Joffrey and Cersei had wisely been seated away from Robb and Sansa, although it did look odd that Tyrion Lannister sat to Robert's other side, rather than his wife or eldest son. Ned watched as Tommen approached his father, the little black kitten Robert had purchased for him held tightly in his arms. The King laughed loudly and pulled the ten year old closer to him, causing the young prince to giggle.

"You look very handsome tonight, Prince Tommen," Ned heard Sansa say. And she was right. Although Tommen was blonde haired and green eyed like his sister, mother and oldest brother, Tommen was dressed in a similar fashion as his father and Robb. All three wore the Baratheon colours, while Joffrey had entered the hall in crimson and gold, the colours of House Lannister. Tommen looked at his father proudly as he registered Sansa's compliment.

"You do indeed m'boy," the King offered happily, ruffling Tommen's blonde locks in an affectionate manner. "A perfect prince."

"Thank you father," Tommen replied formally, attempting to keep a straight face as he addressed his father. But the lad couldn't help it as his lips turned up into a gap-toothed smile, pleased by Robert's words.

Ned reclined in his seat, allowing himself to relax for one night. Since his arrival in the capital, many of his nights had passed with little to no sleep. The mystery surrounding Jon Arryn's death was not becoming any clearer to him. All avenue's he had explored had let to dead ends. All except one. Ned had visited Tobho Mott purely because Jon had done the same thing shorty before his death. He had not been sure what he would find within the premises, but upon entering the small building, the reason for Jon's visit had abundantly become clear. Gendry, the boy had been called. Ned had been struck immediately by the thick black hair and the startling blue eyes. He had looked into those same eyes many times, some when in conversation with Robert, and even times when in conversation with Robb. There was no mistake; Gendry was a bastard of Robert's. Of a similar age as Robb, and his own son Jon, Gendry shared many identical qualities as Robb himself. Both were tall and strong, much like their father. Ned had attempted to think of a reasonable reason for Jon's visit before his death, but no matter how hard he thought, nothing would come to him.

However, it did seem clear to Ned that Jon had been eliminated because he had known something; something to dangerous too be revealed. It was only because of the trust he had in Robert and Robb that he did not send Arya and Sansa back to the safety of Winterfell while he probed deeper into these troubling matters. He had considered many times sharing his suspicions with the King himself, but every time convinced himself not to. Jon Arryn had not divulged any of his investigations to Robert, so Ned thought it best to follow suit. If the time came when he discovered the secret Jon had died for, then he would reveal it to Robert. But certainly not before.

Applause stirred the Hand of the King from his troubled thoughts. Robb and Sansa had taken to the space cleared for dancing. Sansa let a carefree laugh escape from her lips as Robb twirled her around the floor, laughter coming from his own mouth. The music was lively, and it did not take long for the happy pair to be joined. Lords and ladies danced the steps that had been drilled into them from the earliest of ages, but it seemed to Ned that only Robb and Sansa were anything less than stiff in their movements. Their happiness in that moment was obvious for everyone in the room to see.

When the song came to an end, Robb kissed Sansa's hand gently, before offering his arm to her. She took it gladly and they made their way back to the main table. Robb wasted no time in asking Arya to dance with him, and Ned Stark was slightly surprised at the speed Arya accepted the offer. Meanwhile, Sansa had seated herself once again beside her father.

"Robb is a wonderful dancer, is he not?" Sansa said breathlessly, eyes still fixed upon her betrothed.

"Better than his own father, that is a certainty," the Lord of Winterfell replied lightly, his own eyes on the King as he attempted to dance with some elegance, his daughter Myrcella taking the role of his partner. Not that Robert seemed to be caring. He was twirling Myrcella around the dance floor without a care in the world, not even noticing that other pairs were having to move rather hastily out of the way. It seemed that in this moment Robert Baratheon only had eyes for his daughter, who was laughing breathlessly at her father's absurd dancing.

"When I first saw King Robert in Winterfell I could not believe that it was the same man you had told us so many stories about," Sansa confessed suddenly, a blush creeping up her neck. "I'm rather ashamed of thinking that now father. He did not look as I thought a King should look. But appearances can be deceiving. Joffrey taught me that. Robb's much like his father, I've learned. They both have good hearts, and I can see now why the King is a man you have remained so loyal to."

Ned absorbed his daughters words, the barest traces of a smile on his face. "You are truly happy at the prospect of remaining in King's Landing then?"

"Oh yes! I fear I judged King Robert far too harshly in the beginning, but I'm glad that knowing Robb has allowed me to get to know his father too. It's hard to believe that a man like the King could father a son like Joffrey, and then a son like Robb. They don't even look alike."

None of Sansa's words had been intended to mean anything of great importance, but it was suddenly as though the fog was lifting in Ned's mind. Sansa's almost child-like simplicity in her view of Robert, Robb and Joffrey had revealed to Ned the secret Jon Arryn had died for. The secret that would bring the Lannister's down.

The secret that could potentially destroy Robert and Robb's lives.

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**__ Hope everyone liked that. If you did, or even if you didn't, please let me know in a review. Hearing what you all think of this fic really does motivate me to get chapters out as soon as possible._

_No, I haven't forgot to thank my beta-reader. __**HarryLee94**__ continues to be an amazing help, and I can never ever thank her enough._

_The continued reviews/favourites/alerts make me smile more and more every time. Thank you!_

_See ya next time!_


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